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The motor was already well tuned, everything 
was working satisfactorily. 

( Frontis ) (The Radio Boys with the Border Patrol .) 








THE RADIO BOYS WITH 
THE BORDER PATROL 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ARMY FLYER. 

The tall, sun-browned man whose active sinewy 
figure belied his fifty years closed the switch, 
whipped off the headphones and smiling fondly 
turned to his visitor. 

“Let’s go out to the field. Captain Cornell,” he 
said, “and you’ll see as pretty a landing as any flyer 
in the Southwest can make. That was my boy Jack. 
Radioed he’d be here in ten minutes.” 

The uniformed army flyer from the Laredo flight 
of the Border Patrol smiled and nodded. Younger 
than Mr. Hampton by many years, in fact but half 
his age, he yet found his host a congenial spirit. 
Since his forced landing that morning on the 
terrace which the Hamptons had cleared on their 
Southwestern ranch, the two men had found much 
3 



4 


THE RADIO BOYS 


in common to discuss. Already they were fast on 
the way towards becoming real friends. 

Together they stepped from the radio shack into 
the hot sunshine. After the comparative coolness 
of the interior with its whirring electric fan, the 
outdoors was like a furnace. League on league 
the mesquite covered plains stretched away to the 
distant needle-like peaks of the westward range, un¬ 
broken by building of any sort; by tree or moving 
object. 

Behind them, however, lay the group of ranch 
buildings. There was the long low main structure, 
built of timbers and ’dobe, thick-walled, with cool 
interior and a shaded patio built about a spring. To 
one side rose a spindling tower at the foot of which 
crouched the radio shack. On the right was the 
corrugated-iron hanger, radiating heat like an oven 
in shimmering heat waves; and towards this the two 
men made their way. 

‘‘You certainly do yourself well here, ,, said Cap¬ 
tain Cornell, looking from the beautifully levelled 
landing field, with its hanger and piped gas flares for 
night lighting, to the radio tower and the comfort¬ 
able ranch house. The stables and corrals were out 
of sight in a draw, hidden by the dwelling. 

Mr. Hampton nodded. 

“Why not ?” he asked. “I have all the money I 
need and more. Besides, as I told you, Jack is out 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


5 


here experimenting for the radio people, and they 
paid for doing over my little station and equipping 
it anew.” 

By now they had reached the landing field, and 
Mr. Hampton raising his voice shouted: “Ho Tom.” 

A figure, followed by another, rounded the corner 
of the hanger. Tom Bodine and his new assistant 
had been lounging on the shaded side. 

“A great old-timer,” commented Mr. Hampton in 
a low voice as Tom Bodine approached in response 
to his beckoning wave of a hand. “Tell you some 
time about how he saved the lives of Jack and his 
pals, Bob Temple and Frank Merrick. It was down 
in old Mexico, when the boys were all several years 
younger.” 

The flyer noted with approval the sinewy mus¬ 
cular figure of the ex-cowpuncher who approached 
without self-consciousness, alone, his assistant hav¬ 
ing dropped back. Grizzled, sun-browned, walking 
with the rolling gait of the man who had spent a 
lifetime in the saddle, Tom Bodine looked what he 
was—an outdoor man of the wide open ranges. 

Mr. Hampton introduced them, and the two men 
shook hands. Each noted with a pleasurable thrill 
the firm grip of the other. 

“Jack radioed he’d be landing soon,” said Mr. 
Hampton. 

Through puckered eyelids his sharp blue eyes 


6 


THE RADIO BOYS 


swept the sky to the south. A haze which had filled 
the sky for days, telling of sand whipped off of the 
Mexican desert hundreds of miles away by a wind 
storm, obscured the air. 

“There he comes,” he said suddenly, pointing. 

The gaze of the others followed. Heads nodded. 
They, too, saw the distant speck which betokened 
the approaching plane. 

“Guess I left him plenty of room for landing,” 

. said the army man, casting a glance towards his own 
De Haviland near the hanger. 

“Yes, suh,” said Tom, not withdrawing his gaze 
from the sky. “I wasn't here when you come down, 
but afterwards I wheeled yo'r bus to the south end. 
See? She won't be in Jack's way. Besides, that 
boy could land on a nickel a’most.'' 

There was such obvious pride in his voice that 
again Captain Cornell smiled discreetly. To himself 
he said that he wished people- felt that way about 
him. But he did not do himself justice. He was 
one of the best-liked men of the Border Patrol. 

On came Jack, the thrumming of his motor clearly 
heard by the watchers below. When almost over¬ 
head, the tune of the motor changed, and Captain 
Cornell's practised ear could tell that Jack had 
throttled down to eight or nine hundred revolutions 
He was nosing down. His plane was shooting 
earthward. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 7 

When little more than a thousand feet up, the 
plane was thrown into a tight spiral. Then Jack 
began circling downward. 

“Pretty work,” muttered the army flyer. And 
Mr. Hampton overhearing could have gripped the 
other’s hand in his pleasure. The way to his heart 
lay through praise of his motherless son. 

At two hundred feet the plane was seen to 
straighten out, and then Jack leaned overside and 
waved a greeting. He dropped down within fifty 
feet and then, with wide-open motor, roared along 
above the field towards the north end. There he 
turned for the landing. 

“Always a ticklish task for a young flyer,” com¬ 
mented Captain Cornell, as the three men stood 
grouped and motionless, watching, while waiting be¬ 
side the hanger could be seen the figure of the 
mechanic. “But he certainly handles himself like a 
veteran. Look at that,” he commented, as Jack shot 
downward in a shallow glide. “Beautiful.” 

Jack levelled off a foot or so above the ground. 
Then tail-skid and wheels dropped to the hard- 
packed sand for a three-point landing. 

“Beautiful,” the army flyer commented again, as 
he and Mr. Hampton started forward, with Tom 
Bodine rolling-leggedly alongside. 

Tom and the mechanic who approached from the 
other side took the wings and guided the idling ship 


8 


THE BADIO BOYS 


towards the hanger, but Jack waved them away. 

“Let her go boys/’ he said. “I want to run the 
motor out of gas.” 

Obedient they stepped back. Then in a few mo¬ 
ments, Jack snapped her off, and stepped out of the 
cockpit. 

“Hello, Dad,” he called. “Got your message 
about Captain Cornell having honored us, so here I 
am. But if I hadn’t been taking Isabella for a ride 
when you radioed this morning, you wouldn’t have 
gotten me. Their radio’s out of commission. Tell 
you about it later. But here I am running on and 
you haven’t introduced us yet. Captain Cornell, I 
guess,” he added, turning squarely towards the 
army man, and holding out his hand. 

“And mighty glad to meet you,” asserted the 
other, as their hands met “Pretty landing,” he 
added. 

Jack flushed under the praise but so tanned was 
he like all the others that it would have been hard 
to distinguish the mantling blood in his cheeks. 

“Oh, that was nothing,” he demurred. “But still 
it’s mighty nice of you to say so. Excuse me a 
minute while I talk with Tom. Something I want 
him to fix up.” 

So saying, he strode off to where Tom Bodine 
and his mechanic were now trundling the plane into 
the hanger. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


9 


Captain Cornell saw a square-shouldered lean 
youth, hard as nails, almost six feet tall, with an 
open and ingenuous countenance who bore himself 
with an air of confident assurance. When Mr. 
Hampton earlier had been elaborating on Jack’s 
merits and capabilities and had told him somewhat 
of the confidence reposed in his son by the great 
radio trust which had commissioned him to carry 
out experiments in research and engineering prob¬ 
lems, the army flyer had been inclined to discount 
the tale to a certain extent on the ground of parental 
partiality. But now he experienced an instinctive 
liking for Jack, and felt that in all likelihood Mr. 
Hampton had not been exaggerating. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Jack’s quick re¬ 
turn. 

“Whew,” said Jack, tearing off his helmet and 
letting his damp hair blow in the light wind. “This 
heat is terrible. Haven’t had a day like this for 
ages. Big storm working up from the south, I’m 
afraid. Certainly was cooler up above. Well come 
on, let’s get out of the sun. Besides, I want some¬ 
thing cool to drink. Then you can tell me how you 
happened to land here, Captain Cornell. And, I’ll 
have something that will interest a man of the 
Border Patrol, or else I’m mighty badly mistaken.” 

“Why, Jack, what do you mean?” questioned his 
father, striding beside him towards the house. 


10 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Sounds mysterious,” commented Captain Cor¬ 
nell, on Jack’s right. 

“That’s what it is, too—mysterious,” said Jack. 
Something brewing down there in the mountains 
behind Rafaela’s home that I don’t understand. 
Neither does her father. But let’s get inside where 
it’s cool, and I’ll tell you all I know about it, which 
isn’t much.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

“that DEVIL RAMIREZ." 

With laughing apology for an ever-present ap¬ 
petite, Jack declared he must have food as well as 
the cooling limeade set out for him on the table in the 
shaded patio. So Ramon of the grizzled bushy hair 
and the drooping mustache and brown-paper cigarette 
was summoned from the kitchen, and with remark¬ 
able celerity he had salads and cold meat for all 
three on the table. 

While he ate, Jack, out of politeness, questioned 
Captain Cornell regarding the accident which had 
forced him down, learning it was due to a leak in 
his gas tank which Tom Bodine already had soldered. 

“I would have been on my way, thanks to your 
father filling my tank," explained the army flyer, * 
“but I am merely on my way back to Laredo, with 
no particular reason for getting there in a hurry, 
and so I decided to stay and give myself the pleasure 
of meeting you." 

He paused, regarding Jack curiously. Certainly 
this unassuming, quiet-mannered young fellow, 


12 


THE RADIO BOYS 


scarcely out of his ’teens, did not resemble the taker 
of hair breadth chances whom he had pictured 
mentally as a result of listening to Mr. Hampton's 
descriptions of some of the escapades enjoyed by Jack 
and his two pals, Bob Temple and Frank Merrick, in 
South America, Africa, the Far North and at home. 
Neither did he look like a scientist, yet Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton had assured Captain Cornell that his son was 
out here performing abstruse research experiments 
in radio for the benefit of the great radio trust. 

Jack’s blue eyes twinkled, and looking at his father 
he shook his head as if in humorous disgust. 

“Been boring visitors again, Dad, with your 
reminiscenses,” he said. “So that’s your idea of 
hospitality, hey?” 

And turning to Captain Cornell, he added: 

“You know how it is with fond parents, Captain. 
Don’t mind him. And don’t hold what he says 
against me.” 

“All right, I won’t,” laughed the other. “But, if 
I may be pardoned for seeming personal, how is 
it you happen to be here without your pals? Your 
father spoke of you three as being inseparable.” 

“Well, you see,” explained Jack, “I was a year 
ahead of the other fellows at Yale. I took my de¬ 
gree in engineering at Sheffield in the Spring. The 
others are plugging away on their Senior year. 
They’ll be through in a matter of six weeks or so, and 


WITH THE BOEDER PATROL 


13 


then they’ll be out to spend the Summer with me.” 

“I didn’t get a chance to explain all your history, 
Jack,” interpolated Mr. Hampton with a laugh. 

“I see.” Captain Cornell nodded. “And what do 
you all intend to do then? Get into more ad¬ 
ventures ? Things are pretty quiet along the border 
nowadays.” 

Jack looked up from his salad, his face grown 
grave. 

“Not so quiet as you might think, Captain,” he 
said. “That’s what I intended to tell you about.” 

His father and the army flyer sat forward alertly, 
with a sudden scraping of chair legs on the flagstone 
paving of the patio. 

“What do you mean, Jack?” asked Mr. Hampton. 

Jack pushed back his plate and slumped down 
comfortably in his chair, his crossed ankles resting 
on the curbing of the fountain. 

“Something I learned at Don Ferdinand’s today,” 
he said. 

Don Ferdinand was an irascible yet lovable old 
Spanish aristocrat living in the Sonoran mountains 
of old Mexico below the border. Several years be¬ 
fore Jack and his father had made the old Don’s 
acquaintance under strange circumstances. Don 
Ferdinand was immensely wealthy and lived in 
feudal state in a palace in the wilderness, surrounded 
by many retainers. At that time he had been in 


14 


THE RADIO BOYS 


opposition to the Obregon government. Seeking 
to embroil Mexico and the United States and thus 
further his plans for unseating Obregon as Presi¬ 
dent, he had made a raid across the border and 
carried Mr. Hampton away captive. He then had 
sent word to Mr. Temple, his prisoner’s partner and 
the father of Jack’s big pal, Bob Temple, to the effect 
that Mr. Hampton would be held for ransom. Don 
Ferdinand had figured that Mr. Temple would ap¬ 
peal to the American government and that thus 
trouble between the Obregon government and the 
United States would be engendered. But Jack 
Hampton and his pals undertook to rescue the older 
man without public appeal, and penetrating the 
Sonoran wilderness they managed to accomplish 
their object. Since then Don Ferdinand and Mr. 
Hampton had become fast friends. As for Jack and 
the Senorita Rafaela, they had corresponded with 
each other, and now that Jack was back in the 
South-west, he had spent more and more time below 
the border. 

After his remark, Jack sat silent an appreciable 
space of time. Finally, his father becoming im¬ 
patient broke out with: 

“Well, well, Jack, go on. You say something 
happened down at Don Ferdinand’s today, and you 
get us all excited. What was it?” 

“I don’t know that you could really say some- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


15 


thing happened,” said Jack, choosing his words 
carefully. “But Don Ferdinand got pretty warm 
under the collar. Anyway, I’ll start at the begin¬ 
ning—it wasn’t much, and yet it might mean a lot 
—and I’ll give it to you as I got it.” 

Old Ramon came slithering across the flagstones 
in the moccasins which he always wore because of 
tender feet, and Jack cast a glance at him and then 
ceased speaking until the Mexican had deposited the 
coffee cups and departed with the luncheon plates. 

“Don Ferdinand told me not to speak of this to 
anybody whom we couldn’t trust thoroughly,” he 
said, by way of explanation, and with a nod towards 
the departing figure of Ramon he added: “The old 
man is a good hombre so far as we knew. But Don 
Ferdinand was insistent that I shouldn’t let out a 
word before any Mexicans. 

“It was mighty warm down there, with that hot 
wind blowing, and I hadn’t slept well. Too hot for 
comfort. Pitched and tossed all night. Flew down 
yesterday afternoon,” he threw out for Captain Cor¬ 
nell’s understanding. “So the old don, Rafaela 
and I were sitting in the patio this morning, trying 
to keep cool. He was asleep, I expect, because he 
hadn’t said a word for a long time. So was the old 
duenna in the background somewhere. Rafaela and 
I were talking in low voices, so as not to disturb the 
others. 


16 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“A man came into the patio, a rough-looking, 
villainous fellow. I did not remember ever seeing 
him about the place, but then there is a veritable army 
of retainers always hanging about, a sort of feudal 
lot of dependents; so that wasn’t strange. Anyway, 
Rafaela knew him, for, when he made a low bow 
and stood there with his high-crowned sombrero in 
hand, she spoke to him sharply, asking what he 
wanted. He replied that he wanted to speak to Don 
Ferdinand, and Rafaela waked her father. 

“Don Ferdinand took a good look at the man, then 
he jumped up out of his chair. 

“ ‘You, Pedro, what are you doing here?’ he de¬ 
manded. ‘So far from the mine? Has anything 
gone wrong?’ 

“Pedro came closer, said something in a lov T voice. 
Then Don Ferdinand cast a quick glance toward 
Rafaela and me. 

“ ‘Ah, Senor Jack/ he said, ‘a thousand pardons. 
Permit me— There is a little matter of business 
to attend to/ And with a bow to me he made off 
toward his office. Pedro at his heels. 

“Well,” said Jack, leaning back, “I didn’t think 
much about the incident. These fellows are always 
so mysterious anyhow, about the merest trifles. I 
didn’t even ask Rafaela who the fellow was. She 
herself volunteered the information, saying he was 
foreman of a silver mine far back in the mountains 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


17 


which Don Ferdinand owns. For a long time, the 
old don had refrained from working the mine. He 
had sealed it up during the troubled years following 
the Madero revolution, although when Diaz had been 
President it had been a big producer. Now he had 
resumed operations again. 

‘Some little trouble at the mine brings Pedro/ 
said Rafaela. ‘Oh, you men with your business. 
But look, Jack/ she added, in a low voice, ‘Donna 
Ana sleeps.’ 

“I looked around. The old duenna was snoozing 
so hard, it would have taken an earthquake to wake 
her. 

“ ‘The heat’s got her,’ I said, for it certainly was 
hot, even there in the shaded patio. 

“I guess Rafaela thought me pretty dense, by the 
way she looked at me. 

“ ‘Is that all you can think about ?’ she asked. 
‘But, you think about the heat—well, wouldn’t it be 
fine to go flying? So nice and cool?’ 

“Then I tumbled. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s go.’ 

“We tiptoed out of the patio like a couple of con¬ 
spirators. The old duenna never stirred. Don 
Ferdinand wasn’t in sight. Neither was anybody else 
at the front of the house. And out behind, in the 
quarters, I expect everybody was taking a siesta. 
Anyway, we couldn’t hear a sound. 

“So off we trotted across the lawn and disappeared 


18 


THE RADIO BOYS 


among the eucalyptus trees—you know, Dad, cutting 
off the house from the don’s landing field ?” 

Mr. Hampton nodded, a reminiscent light in his 
eyes. He was remembering the scene which had be¬ 
come so familiar during his period of captivity sev¬ 
eral years before. 

Captain Cornell opened his eyes. “A landing 
field ?” he demanded, incredulously. 

“Oh, yes,” explained Jack. “Several years back, 
when the old don was an unreconstructed Mexican 
rebel, he had a couple of airplanes in his pay. Sev¬ 
eral of his aviators even stole ours—that is Bob’s 
and Frank’s—airplane. But we got it back. The 
airplanes are gone, as well as most of the rebel army 
Don Ferdinand was feeding at that time. But the 
flying field remains. It’s in pretty good shape too. 

“Anyhow,” he continued, “Rafaela and I popped 
out on the field, and I put her in the plane. Then I 
stirred up a couple of sleepy Mexicans whom I’ve 
trained to help me. We got her going, and after 
I’d warmed her up, we took off for a spin. 

“And, say, Dad,” he added, in a burst of en¬ 
thusiasm, “that girl’s one good sport. She certainly 
loves to fly. One of these days I’m just going to 
have to teach her. Trouble is, they never let her go 
up. This was only her second or third flight. And, 
my, how tickled she was over stealing away from 
her duenna.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


19 


Mr. Hampton tried to look reproving but failed 
lamentably. Nevertheless, he warned: “Just the 
same, you mustn't do that again, Jack, without her 
father's consent. What if something happened, some 
accident?" 

“Oh, shucks," said Jack, “I didn't fly high with 
her, and I didn’t take off until the old bus was tuned 
up and running like a watch. Anyhow," he added, 
hastening to change the subject, “it was a good thing 
I went up because it was then I got your radio 
message, saying Captain Cornell was here and ask¬ 
ing me to come home. The don's station was out of 
order again. Some Mexican kid is always monkey¬ 
ing with something or other and putting the whole 
works out of commission. When it's working, 
Rafaela says, they get all the big stations. And"— 
he laughed—“she says it's a regular thing for all the 
Mexicans to turn out since I installed that loud 
speaker for them, and dance on the flying field at 
night to the band music they pull out of the air. 

“Well, anyhow, back we flew, and I landed her 
safely and left the motor idling while we walked up 
to the house. I intended to see her home, say good¬ 
bye to the don, and come back. 

“The old duenna was still asleep. But just as we 
stepped back in the patio Don Ferdinand appeared 
in a state of pretty high excitement. I thought for 
a minute he was going to comb me for taking 


20 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Rafaela up in the plane without permission. But, 
10; he wasn’t even aware that we had been flying. 

“ ‘What’s the matter, father?’ asked Rafaela, 
anxiously. ‘Has anything happened? Did Pedro 
bring bad news ?’ 

“The old don walked up and down a few steps, 
clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. 
‘Just when the mine was beginning to pay again/ 
he mourned. 

“ ‘Tell me what is the matter, father/ demanded 
Rafaela. 

“He halted and faced us. ‘Matter ? Matter ?’ said 
he. ‘Matter enough. That devil Ramirez has lured 
all my men away. They laugh when Pedro begs 
them to stay and say they will follow Ramirez who 
will make them rich. Pedro cannot get anybody to 
work/ 

“ ‘But you can send other men/ said Rafaela. 

“ ‘Bah/ said Don Ferdinand. ‘You are just a girl. 
What do you know about such matters ? If Ramirez 
takes some men, will he not take others?’ 

“Rafaela shrugged and spread out her hands. 
‘But you are rich, father. You need not worry about 
the mine.’ 

“ ‘Foolish child/ said Don Ferdinand, and he ap¬ 
pealed to me. ‘Women do not know,’ said he. ‘Why 
does Ramirez lure my men away, if not to make 
revolution? And revolution will upset everything 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


21 


again. Bah, we have had enough of revolutions/ ” 

Mr. Hampton interrupted with an abrupt but 
hearty laugh. 

“Isn’t that just like him? He wants no revolutions 
unless he makes them himself. When I think of 
several years ago—” And he laughed again. 

Jack smiled, too. “That’s what I thought, Dad,” 
he said. And then, becoming serious, he added: 
“Anyhow, there is another revolution brewing, Cap¬ 
tain Cornell, it is liable to make trouble for you fel¬ 
lows of the Border Patrol.” 

The army flyer nodded. His face wore a puzzled 
frown. 

“Ramirez?” he said. “Ramirez? Never heard 
of him. And I know most of the trouble-makers by 
name, besides. Your friend Don Ferdinand referred 
to him as That devil Ramirez,’ hey ? Did he explain 
further?” 

“No,” said Jack. “He just cautioned me not to 
speak of this to any of our Mexicans, and said he 
would have more news for me later. Then I came 
away. I don’t know,” he added thoughtfully; “I 
don’t know but what he contemplates lighting out 
after Ramirez himself. He’s quite an intrepid old 
fellow, you know.” 

The conversation thereupon became more general, 
Captain Cornell questioning Jack regarding his radio 
experiments. They walked out to the radio shack. 


22 


THE RADIO BOYS 


And there Jack launched into an enthusiastic descrip¬ 
tion of his work. He was seeking, he said, to work 
out some of the fundamental problems demanding 
solution as a result of the tremendous increase in both 
broadcasting stations and receivers. 

“There are six or seven such problems/’ he said. 
“First, we must have a radio receiver which will pro¬ 
vide super-selectivity—a receiver which will enable 
the operator to select any station he wants to hear, 
whether or not local stations are operating. Such 
selectivity must go to the theoretical limits of the 
science. “Here”—pointing to a litter on a work 
bench which was only a meaningless jumble to the 
flyer—“is a pretty close approach, or it soon will be,” 
he corrected himself, “to what I want. It will be a 
super-sensitive receiver, giving volume from distant 
stations as well as selectivity.” 

Here and there he went about the shack, taking 
up or lying down pieces of apparatus, and keeping 
up a running fire of comment which made the flyer’s 
head swim. 

He was working, he said, on the problem of 
achieving a “non-radiating” receiver—one, which, 
no matter how handled, wouldn’t interfere with a 
neighbor’s enjoyment. He was trying to improve 
the complicated Super-Heterodyne in sensitiveness 
and selectivity, so that anybody could have access to 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


23 


its wonders, regardless of whether he possessed any 
engineering skill. 

And at that point, Captain Cornell groaning 
humorously clapped his hand to his head and stag¬ 
gered toward the door. 

“Great Scott, Mr. Hampton,” he appealed, “call 
him off, will you? I didn’t know there was so much 
to radio. I’m willing to believe your son’s the great¬ 
est radio engineer in the world, but tell him to have 
a heart. Understanding about airplanes is as far as 
my feeble intelligence will carry me. I can’t cram 
radio into it, too.” 

The Hamptons both laughed, and followed him 
outside. There, with a look at the sky, Captain 
Cornell gave a sudden startled exclamation. 

“I’ll have to be getting along,” he said. “Just 
enough daylight going to be left for me to get to 
Laredo. Besides, I don’t like that look in the South. 
One of these desert siroccos playing away off there 
somewhere. And who knows when it may take a 
notion to come wandering up here ? Will you folks 
help me get away?” 


24 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER III. 

DON FERDINAND DISAPPEARS 

Tom Bodine had seen them start across the field, 
and by the time they reached the side of the big De 
Haviland used by the Border Patrol flyer, the motors 
were gently idling. Tom clambering out of the cock¬ 
pit announced proudly that everything was ship¬ 
shape. 

Captain Cornell’s face beamed as he took his place 
in the front cockpit. This was real service. He 
liked Tom, good man. He liked these Hamptons, 
too. His practiced eye ran over the dials in front 
of him, noting that air pressure, temperature, and 
oil pressure were correct. The big bomber breathing 
fire from its exhaust pipes as it strained against the 
wheel blocks was like a great bird eager to take 
the air. 

A sudden thought came to Captain Cornell, and 
leaning out he shouted through cupped hands in 
order to make himself heard above the roar of the 
warming motor: 

‘Til look up Ramirez’s record in Laredo and give 
you a call on the radio if I learn anything.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


25 


Jack shook his head. He couldn’t hear. Captain 
Cornell throttled down and repeated his words. 

“All right,” shouted Jack. “And if I can be of 
any help, call on me. And, say, Captain,” he added 
as an afterthought, “I’ll be dropping in on you at 
Laredo one of these days. Dad and I want to see 
a bull fight. Maybe you'll take us over into the 
Mexican town.” 

“Surest thing you know,” the flyer called. “Come 
on a Sunday.” 

Then with the battery charging and the motor 
firing sweetly, he threw off one switch of the double¬ 
ignition system in order to listen for breaks in the 
twelve-cylinder Liberty. The same operation on the 
other. Both running true. A wave of the hand, in 
farewell, and he eased the throttle on. Slowly the 
tachometer climbed up the scale, showing increasing 
revolutions. 

The flyer nodded to Tom and Jack at the wings. 
They disappeared and then popped out, dragging the 
wheel blocks. Tom's assistant stepped away from 
the tail. Then the big ship started forward easily, 
smoothly, and within thirty yards the tail-skid left 
the ground. Motor roaring without a break, the De 
Haviland ran a bit farther, then took the air. Driv¬ 
ing along a little above the ground, it shot upward. 
Then a right bank and the flyer circled the field, 
making sure his great plane was running true before 


26 


THE RADIO BOYS 


letting her out for Laredo. Twice around the field, 
and then away shot the ship. 

“Some bus,” said Jack. 

None of the little group had said a word up to 
then. 

“Lot more trouble to work her than your little 
racer, Jack,” said Tom Bodine with the freedom born 
of years of friendship. 

Jack nodded. “Some day Fm going to ask Cap¬ 
tain Cornell to let me handle her. If I ever see 
him again,” he added, as he and Mr. Hampton re¬ 
turned toward the house. 

But Jack was to see Captain Cornell again, and 
that right soon. 

In the meantime, he spent the next several days 
engaged on his radio experimentation. Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton saw little of him, except at meals. But the older 
man was himself engaged, being deep in the writing 
of a technical engineering paper. So the time did 
not hang heavy on his hands. 

Jack reported one night enthusiastically that his 
research had definitely established that the com¬ 
plicated Super-Heterodyne could be simplified to the 
point where anybody, “even a child,” he said with 
such a tone of scorn as to make his father smile, 
could work it. Then he plunged again into his ex¬ 
periments. 

Four or five days after the unexpected visit of the 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


27 


army flyer, Tom Bodine returning from a ride into 
Red Butte, ten miles away, brought a bundle of mail. 
Mail at the ranch was always an event, so Jack was 
summoned from his radio shack to the house, and 
he and his father abandoned their various pursuits 
for the time being. 

“Oh, I say, Dad, here’s a letter from Frank,” cried 
Jack, pouncing on a bulky missive, and slitting it 
open. “Now to hear the news from home.” And 
with the stiff sheets crinkling, he threw himself down 
in a deep leather chair while his eyes started to de¬ 
vour the page. 

The next moment he bounded to his feet with a 
whoop. 

“Hurray, Dad,” he shouted, “Guess what! The 
fellows have both passed their exams. Now they 
have nothing to do for six weeks, when they’ll have 
to show up for Commencement. They’re coming out 
to spend the intervening time with us.” His eyes 
skimmed the pages. “Been planning on this for a 
long time but kept it a secret. Bob wasn’t sure he 
could pass, but he crammed. Got a creditable rat¬ 
ing. And Mr. Temple’s coming, too. What do you 
know about that, Dad?” 

And tossing the letter upon the table, Jack grabbed 
his father by the shoulders and began whirling him 
around the room. Not until he had kicked over sev¬ 
eral chairs and bumped into the table with a crash 


28 


THE RADIO BOYS 


that brought a howl of pain did he come to a halt. 
Then Mr. Hampton looked at his flushed face and 
shining eyes and shook his head. 

“Yes, Temple told me the same thing here,” ho 
said, extending the letter he himself had been read¬ 
ing. He shook his head. “Poor Temple and I. 
We’ll have our hands full.” 

“They’ll be here— Let’s see.” Jack retrieved the 
letter from the table, turning to the date. “Why, 
they’ll be at San Antone the twentieth. And this is 
the seventeenth, isn’t it? I lose track of time out 
here. Stay in San Antone a day, and then come on 
to Red Butte. Golly, Dad, they’ll be here in five 
days.” 

The next day Jack announced he was going to 
carry the news to their friends in Mexico. They 
would be glad to hear it, he said, especially Don 
Ferdinand who had taken a great liking to big Bob 
Temple because of the way in which the young 
athlete had performed prodigies of strength in the 
rescue of Mr. Hampton, several years before. Don 
Ferdinand had been the victim, but he was a game 
loser. And because of the warm friendliness which 
had developed between the two parties since that by¬ 
gone time, he could afford to smile at all that had 
happened now. 

“Why don’t you go along with me, Dad?” Jack 
suddenly suggested. “Do you good to get away 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


29 


from your poky old writing. Come on. Blow the 
cobwebs out of your brain.” 

“Believe I will,” said Mr. Hampton, after a mo¬ 
ment or two of thought. “Wait till I tell Ramon 
we won’t be home for dinner. He’d feel hurt if we 
didn’t let him know. Besides, I’ll need my helmet 
and goggles.” 

While he was absent, Jack and Tom Bodine tuned 
up the motor of Jack’s two-seater, of which Tom 
stood in considerable awe, yet which he teasingly re¬ 
ferred to as “Jack’s air flivver.” 

Mr. Hampton returned wearing a puzzled expres¬ 
sion. He explained that he had been unable to find 
Ramon. This was strange, as the old fellow seldom 
stirred from his kitchen. He inquired of Tom 
whether the latter had seen him since breakfast. 
Tom shook his head in denial, but his tow-headed 
assistant, a youngster from Red Butte, who ap¬ 
proached in time to overhear the question, spoke up. 

“Yes sir, Mr. Hampton, I seen him light out 
toward Red Butte ’bout an hour or two ago. He 
come out o’ the back o’ the house soon after break¬ 
fast. I was out here where I sleep”—nodding 
toward the hanger. “He was hobblin’ right fast on 
them bad feet o’ hisn. Stops by the road an’ along 
comes that Mexican feller in town what runs the 
flivver at the station, just like he had a date t’ meet 


30 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Ramon. So the old feller gets in an* away they go 
toward Red Butte.” 

Mr. Hampton’s face cleared. 

“Oh, I suppose he wanted to go to Red Butte to 
order supplies,” he said. “But it’s queer he didn’t 
say something about it at breakfast. Well, come on, 
Jack. Let’s get going. You fellows will have to 
feed yourselves, Tom. I think there’s plenty of food 
in the storehouse, and I know how well you can cook 
flapjacks. So I guess you won’t starve before Ramon 
gets back. We’ll be back tomorrow. Don Ferdin¬ 
and wouldn’t let us come back tonight, I know.” 

Thereupon, at a nod from Jack, Tom and his 
assistant who was known as “Whitey,” withdrew the 
wheel blocks. The motor was already well tuned, 
everything was working satisfactorily. Jack glanced 
up at the wind-indicator, noting that the take-off 
would be south, just as he was headed. Then he 
advanced the throttle smoothly, being careful not to 
over-feed the motor, and the graceful light plane in¬ 
stantly started forward in response. 

A quick shoot forward, then up. When his alti¬ 
meter showed he was up twelve hundred feet, and 
with everything running smoothly, Jack dropped the 
flying field behind and headed away for the distant 
mountains within which lay Don Ferdinand’s feudal 
estate. 

Before starting he had suggested that his father 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


31 


should endeavor to call Don Ferdinand on the radio 
from the plane. The German who once, in the don's 
belligerent days, had operated the radio outfit, long 
since had taken his departure. But Jack had in¬ 
structed Manuel Sanchez, an intelligent young fel¬ 
low of Don Ferdinand’s retainers, in the operation of 
the radio station. He had even overhauled the two- 
way station himself recently. If Manuel had suc¬ 
ceeded in restoring the outfit to working condition 
since Jack’s last visit, Mr. Hampton might be able 
to get a response. 

However, no response was received. And at the 
end of an hour and a half of flying over bare un¬ 
trodden desert country giving way to foothills, Jack 
finally crossed the top of a low range and their des¬ 
tination appeared in the valley below. 

Jack swooped downward and leveled off a foot 
above the ground of the flying field. Nobody came 
running, but that was nothing unusual. Since Don 
Ferdinand had dispensed with his airplanes, the field 
was deserted. Only when Jack departed after a 
visit could the men whom he had trained to help in 
the take-off be found at hand. His hand dragged 
back on the stick, and he dropped to the hard-packed 
sand for a perfect three-point landing, wheels and 
tail-skid hitting together. 

Shutting off the motor, Jack and Mr. Hampton 
climbed out and started for the house. There was 


32 


THE RADIO BOYS 


no danger in leaving the plane. None of Don Ferd¬ 
inand's people would have dared approach Jack’s 
plane or touch it. 

As they walked toward the eycalyptus grove 
shielding the house from the flying field, a lithe, 
slender figure, skirts fluttering, emerged from the 
trees, and began to run toward them. 

“Rafaela,” cried Jack, and darting away from his 
father’s side he ran to meet her. 

Mr. Hampton smiled and continued at his own 
more sober pace. He saw them meet, and saw Jack 
suddenly take Rafaela in his arms. 

That was a surprise. 

“Great guns,” he muttered. “I didn’t know affairs 
were that far along.” 

But when he approached closer he saw that 
Rafaela was crying and that Jack was trying to 
comfort her. 

Jack looked up at him, an expression of dismay 
on his face. 

“I can’t make much out of this. Dad,” he said, 
“except that Don Ferdinand has disappeared, and 
Rafaela is dreadfully worried.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


32 


CHAPTER IV. 

WORD FROM DON FERDINAND 

Rafaela pulled away from Jack's arms quickly 
at Mr. Hampton's approach. The latter cast her a 
sharp glance and noted some slight confusion which 
his quick perception told him was not due solely to 
her anxiety over her father's disappearance. He 
glanced at Jack, a question in his eyes. Jack grinned 
shamelessly, and Mr. Hampton had difficulty pre¬ 
serving a sober countenance. Evidently, his hand¬ 
some son did not object to offering Rafaela comfort 
in her distress. 

Then his thoughts leaped to the words still ring¬ 
ing in his ears, informing him that Don Ferdinand 
had disappeared. He turned to Rafaela to question 
her. But at that moment, she emitted a sharp ex¬ 
clamation as she held up a sealed envelope and 
examined the superscription. 

“Why, this is from my father,” she cried. 

“From your father?” exclaimed Jack. “Thought 
you said he had disappeared ?” 

“I did say he had disappeared,” answered Rafaela, 


34 


THE RADIO BOYS 


ripping open the envelope. And pulling out the 
folded sheet which it contained she read it eagerly. 

“Ah, this explains it,” she added, dropping to her 
side the hand holding the note, and facing the two 
men. 

“But come, let us go to the house. It is too hot 
to stand here in the sun. Besides, you must be 
thirsty.” 

And snuggling her hands under Jack’s and his 
father’s nearest elbows, she started them marching 
toward the house. 

“You have me puzzled, Rafaela,” declared Jack. 
“First you declare your father has disappeared and 
you say in that funny way of yours that you are 
desolated. Then you get a note from him. What’s 
the answer?” 

Rafaela’s teasing laugh pealed out. “What you 
say, Jack? ‘What’s the answer?’ Is that some of 
your American slang? What does it mean?” 

Mr. Hampton laughed. Rafaela was a continual 
delight to him. 

“It means,” said Jack, solemnly, “that if you don’t 
clear up this mystery, I’ll appeal to Donna Ana.” 

Rafaela made a grimace. “Oh, that duenna. She 
sleeps. Not even your airplane wakes her. But 
when I hear it, I run. ‘Senor Jack will go search 
for my father who is missing four days/ I say co 
myself. As I run, up comes that Pedro with a note. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 35 

He would stop me. But I am so anxious to ask you 
to, please, go at once and search for my father, that 
I take his note and run. He looked after me and 
scratch his head. I see him, yes sir.” 

She looked up slyly, first at Jack, then at his 
father, and both laughed heartily. 

“You’re a little minx, Rafaela,” said Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton, pinching the shell-like ear nearest him. 

“That makes it unanimous, Dad,” said Jack. “But 
go on, Rafaela. Now what does the note say?” 

“It say we must ask Pedro,” declared Rafaela, as 
they stepped into the cool patio. She clapped her 
hands and a swarthy, stolid-faced woman appeared 
at whom she shot a volley of Spanish, whereupon the 
woman turned and went back under the colonnade 
in the direction of the servant’s quarters. 

“She will call Pedro, and likewise bring us lime¬ 
ade,” said Rafaela. “Sit down.” 

A sound between exclamation and short came 
from behind Jack and he whirled around, in the act 
of slipping into a big comfortable wicker chair. 
Donna Ana, all in black, was staring at him severely 
from the depths of another wicker chair in the shade 
of a pineapple palm. He made her a low bow, while 
Mr. Hampton walked up and bent over her hand 
with that touch of Continental gallantry which al¬ 
ways flattered the duenna. Then he pulled his chair 
close to her and began a conversation. 


36 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“That's nice of Dad,” said Jack, in an undertone. 

Rafaela glanced at him archly. 

“You are learning, Jack,” she said. “That was a 
pretty speech.” 

At that moment Pedro appeared, bowing, in front 
of Rafaela. Mr. Hampton and Donna Ana moved 
closer. 

“My father,” said Rafaela, tapping the note, 
“writes only that he is well, and that I should ask 
you for details.” She addressed him in Spanish, but 
as both Jack and his father understood the language, 
they experienced no difficulty in following the con¬ 
versation. 

“Four day ago I send a message to Don Ferdin¬ 
and,” said Pedro. “It informed him that devil 
Ramirez had lured away my last man from the mine 
and asked for instructions. Soon—the next day— 
Don Ferdinand appears. I am astonished. ‘Your 
messenger came at night, Pedro/ said he. ‘I left at 
once/ So I say to him, ‘Let us make talk/ But he 
answers that he is fatigued and will sleep first. All 
day he sleeps. That night we talk. The next day 
he remembers suddenly that he has left you alone, 
with no knowledge of what had become of him. He 
does not want you to be alarmed. So he sends you 
a message. There is none to take it but Pedro. 
Here I am.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 37 

With a bow as graceful as a cavalier’s Pedro 
ceased. 

“But my father.” Rafaela’s little foot in its tiny 
black slipper was tapping on the flagstones. “But 
my father, why did he not return ?” 

There was a scarcely perceptible pause before 
Pedro replied. Then he said: “He has work to do.” 

“Pedro, there is something you are keeping back 
from me,” declared Rafaela firmly. “Tell me. 
where is my father now?” 

Shrugging, Pedro spread out his hands, but he 
did not answer. 

Jack thought he understood. Stepping forward 
impetuously, he laid a hand on Pedro’s shoulder, and 
faced him. “Look here,” he said. “No tricks. If 
anything has happened to—” 

Pedro glared blackly, but Rafaela laughed. 

“Oh, Jack, you are so—so funny,” she declared. 
“You mustn’t suspect Pedro. He is my father’s 
most trusted man.” And to Pedro, she said sooth¬ 
ingly: “This gentleman didn’t understand, Pedro. 
He but worries about my father. If he knew, he 
would not hurt your feelings.” 

Pedro made a slight bow to Jack. “I forgive the 
young Senor’s mistake,” he said. 

Jack sighed and shook his head. “But, Rafaela, 
what then ?” 

“You do not know my father,” she explained. “I 


38 


THE RADIO BOYS 


fear he has done something rash and ordered Pedro 
not to tell me for fear I would be worried. Is it not 
so, Pedro ?” 

The latter shrugged. It was an eloquent shrug. 
It said plainer than words that Rafaela was correct. 

The girl was silent a moment, sitting with chin 
cupped in hand, staring thoughtfully at the paving 
at her feet. Then she glanced up quickly, under¬ 
standing in her eyes. 

“This Ramirez of whom you speak? Where is 
he?” 

“He marches toward Nueva Laredo,” said Pedro. 

“And my father has gone in pursuit of him alone/* 
said Rafaela. It was more a challenge than a ques¬ 
tion. 

Pedro hesitated. Rafaela stamped her foot. 
Pedro made haste to confirm her words. 

“Only, Senorita, he goes not alone. A dozen men 
he brought with him to the mine—these lazy fellows 
who grow fat here on his bounty. Yet they are good 
fighters and will lay down their lives for him. And 
all are well armed.” 

“I knew it,” said Rafaela, with conviction. “And 
he told you not to tell me. Well, that is all, Pedro. 
Rest now before you go back to the mine. For I 
suppose you will want to return ?” 

“Si, Senorita. I was not to tell, but you found 
out. I never could keep secrets from a woman.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 39 

Pedro’s resignation was so comical that involuntarily 
all laughed. “And when I return,” he added, “I shall 
want twelve more good fighters.” 

“You shall have them,” promised Rafaela. And 
with a bow Pedro disappeared. 

“Now,” said Mr. Hampton, when he had departed* 
“this is a pretty kettle of fish.” 

“ ‘Kettle of fish ?’ ” Rafaela looked inquiry. 

“Some more slang,” laughed Jack. “Dad is worse 
than I. He means here is a lot of trouble.” 

The maid now appeared with a great silver pitcher 
and a tray of glasses, a little table was pulled for¬ 
ward, and about it all four sat, sipping limeade, and 
discussing the news brought by Pedro. 

“I don’t think it would be worth while to question 
that fellow, Pedro, again,” said Mr. Hampton* 
finally, after the situation had been thrashed over. 
“He’s told us all he’s going to tell. And I don’t see, 
Rafaela, that there is anything we can do. Your 
father knows his own business, and I consider he is 
pretty well able to take care of himself. As far as 
I can see, this fellow Ramirez, whoever he is, is pre¬ 
paring to stir up trouble, and your father is trying 
to stop him. Jack and I are Americans, and we can’t 
very well take a hand in a Mexican family row.” 

Jack looked disappointed. Nothing would have 
suited him better than to step into his plane and fly 
southward in search of Don Ferdinand for the pur- 


40 


THE RADIO BOYS 


pose of placing himself and his airplane at the latter’s 
disposal. Still, his father was right. 

“However, Rafaela,” he supplemented, “Pm going 
to see that your radio station is in good running 
order before I leave, and you must tell your boy to 
keep in touch with me. Then, if you want us in a 
hurry, we’ll be at your command.” 

That evening Pedro set out at dusk with twelve 
mounted and heavily armed men at his back. They 
were the pick of the young fellows about the place. 
Standing a little apart from Mr. Hampton and 
Donna Ana, Jack and Rafaela watched the de¬ 
parture. Pedro rode up for final instructions. 

“Tell my father to be careful,” said Rafaela. She 
was worried, but held her head high, exhibiting the 
same firey spirit of her father. The ghost of a smile 
came to her lips. “Not that he will heed,” she said. 

“And, Pedro,” added Jack, “tell Don Ferdinand 
when you see him that if I can help with my airplane 
—for scouting—or—or something, why, to send a 
messenger here and have me called by radio.” 

Pedro nodded, then with his rapscallion yet loyal 
crew whirled away. Soon the dustcloud raised by 
their departure settled, and they were lost in the 
shadows of the night. The remaining Mexicans, who 
had gathered to watch, dispersed. The tinkle of 
stringed instruments came from the Mexican quar- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


41 


ters. The Hamptons, Rafaela and Donna Ana 
turned back to the patio. There they sat conversing 
until time to retire, and the next morning Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton and Jack took their departure. 


42 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER V. 

OFF TO LAREDO. 

During ensuing days Jack paid strict attention to 
his experimental work. He maintained daily radio 
communication with Rafaela, learning that there had 
been no further news from her father. But he made 
no more trips below the line. Tom Bodine tried to 
lure him away into the mountains on a fishing ex¬ 
pedition, but he turned a deaf ear, leaving the older 
man disconsolate. 

“Alius a-potterin’ ’round with that radio stuff,” 
said Tom contemptuously, lounging in the doorway 
of the radio shack. He made a clear-cut figure, like 
a Remington painting of the Old West, against the 
background of blazing sunshine and desert seen 
through the open doorway. “Don’t know why yo’re 
so crazy ’bout it, Jack,” he said turning away. 
“Bringin’ the noises o’ the world into the desert, 
that’s what yo’re a-doin.’ Some day ye’ll regret it, 
when ye ain’t got no place to go where ye kin have 
peace an’ quiet.” And he stumped away, with Jack’s 
laugh ringing in his ears. 

But Jack’s experiments in simplification of the 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


43 


Super-Heterodyne were progressing 1 satisfactorily, 
and he was pushing the work eagerly in order to 
have something with which to surprise Frank and 
Bob on their arrival. He had developed a special 
transformer which he felt assured was superior to 
anything then on the market. By its use he was re¬ 
ceiving stations from coast to coast, with crystal 
clarity, loud speaker volume and minimum inter¬ 
ference. Every day he logged each station and later 
singled it out again with the same dial setting. And 
every day’s patient experimentation found inter¬ 
ference decreasing and volume and clarity growing 
stronger. 

Then came the Saturday to which he had been 
looking forward as the last day on which to get 
everything in shape for the arrival of his two pals, 
who were expected on the morrow. But as he 
worked away that morning in the radio shack, he 
suddenly heard his call. It was the usual hour at 
which he was accustomed to call Rafaela, and as his 
eyes travelled to the clock he experienced a sense of 
guilt. So immersed in his work had he been that he 
had ignored calling. Doubtless, this was Rafaela 
summoning him. 

But when he answered, a man’s voice replied: 
‘That you, Jack?” 

Jack stuttered. He could hardly believe his ears. 
Why, it couldn’t be— Yes sir, it was, it was! And 


44 


THE RADIO BOYS 


so eagerly that he could hardly make himself heard, 
he shouted: “Hel-lo, Bob.” 

‘‘Here, get away. Give me a chance,” Jack heard 
coming through the air. That was Frank. There 
was the sound of a scuffle. Then loud and clear and 
triumphant came Frank’s voice: “The big bully. 
Tried to keep me away. Wanted the first word. 
But I—Ouch, leggo.” 

Again the sound of scuffling, and then first Frank 
and then Bob shouted into Jack’s ears. 

Wherever they were, the two were certainly 
larking. Finally, matters became pacified and then 
Jack got in a question as to where they were calling 
from. 

“From Laredo,” Frank informed him, “from the 
flying field. Decided to come around this way to 
reach you in order to stop off and see a bull fight. 
Say, Jack, they tell us tomorrow will be the finest 
bull fight in months across the line in the Mexican 
town. We wanted to get you to come down. I 
thought of this stunt of asking the army flyers to 
let us call you—” 

“That’s a tall one, Jack,” cut in Bob. “It was my 
bright idea.” 

Another scuffling bout. “Great Scott,” said Jack 
to himself, his face in one broad grin of delight, 
“they’ve been penned up in a train for days 
and they’ve just got to let off their animal spirits. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


45 


Only hop© they don’t tear things to pieces for the 
army men.” 

‘Tell you what, fellows,” he said, when again 
matters had been pacified. “I'll get Dad and we’ll 
fly down late this afternoon. Look for us about 
sunset. Then we can all go to the bull fight to¬ 
morrow.” 

“That's the idea,” endorsed Bob. “We want 
you, old scout. Kind of miss you, you know, and 
that sort of thing.” Bob was growing facetious to 
hide his deeper feelings. “Besides,” he concluded, 
“my father is here, too, and he sort of wants to 
foregather with your Dad.” 

“Can't blame him, can you, Jack?” cut in Frank. 
“Think of his having to put up with Bob so many 
days.” 

“Hey, you fellows, cut that out, and listen to 
me,” expostulated Jack, as sounds reaching him 
indicated the friendly wrestling bout was being re¬ 
newed. And when he once more had Bob's ear, 
he told him to look up Captain Cornell. 

“Shucks, Jack, you're late,” said Bob. “It was 
Captain Cornell who gave us the run of the place 
soon as we told him we were your friends and that 
it was you we wanted to radio.” 

“Yes, Jack,” added Frank, “he told us to be sure 
and get you to come to Laredo for tomorrow’s bull 


46 


THE RADIO BOYS 


fight. Said he promised to take you to see a good 
one, and that this promised to be it.” 

As soon as the conversation was ended, Jack 
declared a truce to work for the time being and 
set out at a run for the house. Hardly had he 
gotten beyond the door of the shack, however, than 
conscience smote him for not having communicated 
with Rafaela. Turning back, he endeavored to 
call her but was unable to get any response. “Some 
Mexican kid pulled out a couple of wires again, I 
guess,” he muttered. “Well, everything must be 
all right or she’d have called me. No use worry¬ 
ing. Besides, Dad will want the news.” 

And, abandoning his efforts to raise Rafael’s 
station, he set out on the run for the house. 

Bursting into the comfortable living room, he 
found his father seated in a broad deep chair in 
front of the low table on which he was accustomed 
to do his writing, and gazing up at Tom Bodine 
who sat on a corner of the table at ease. 

“Just talking about what we’ll have for dinner, 
Jack,” said Mr. Hampton, smiling at him. “Name 
your preference. Tom says he may not be able to 
give us Mexican dishes like Ramon, but that since 
Ramon deserted and left him the post of cook he’ll 
feed us American style. Now last night we had—” 

“Yes,” grinned Jack, “I know what we had. 
beef and eggs, and night before eggs and beef. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


47 


But old Tom needn't worry his head about how to 
▼ary the menu tonight, because you and I won't be 
here” 

“Won't be here?” Mr. Hampton stared. 

“No sir,” said Jack, “we'll be eating at the Ham¬ 
ilton Hotel in Laredo.” 

The astonished glances of the two men were his 
only answer, and after enjoying their mystification a 
moment Jack proceeded to enlighten them. 

“We're going to fly to Laredo to meet Frank and 
Bob and Mr. Temple,” he said. “They've just 
radioed from the army flying field. Went to 
Laredo in order to stop over and see the bull fight 
tomorrow.” 

“Waal,” said Tom, sliding off the table, and 
preparing to depart, “I kin see there’s goin’ to be 
hotter days even than we been havin' around here. 
Give ’em my best, Jack. An', say, better bring a 
cook back with ye. I'll ride inta Red Butte an’ git 
some fresh supplies.” At the door he paused to fling 
over a shoulder: “Don’t let the bull git ye.” Then 
he disappeared. 

Jack laughed. “Come on, Dad,” he urged, “put 
your writing away and come on out to the hanger. 
We'll have to go over the old bus an' get her in tip¬ 
top shape for the trip.” 

Pretending reluctance, yet reluctance belied by 
the eager twinkle in his eyes, Mr. Hampton com- 


THE RADIO BOYS 


4S 

plied. And together they headed for the hanger, 
where each donned voluminous coveralls and went 
about the work of greasing and oiling, and the 
tightening of struts and stays. 

As they worked away, each busied upon a dif¬ 
ferent part of the plane from the other, each intent 
upon his own thoughts, there was little opportunity 
for conversation. But as his fingers flew about the 
tasks which he performed almost mechanically. 
Jack’s thoughts were flying, too. 

He started in by thinking of Bob and Frank. 
They had been separated more than six months, 
the longest period of separation for years. Com¬ 
munication between the two at Yale and Jack in 
the Southwest had been steady and continuous. 
Yet, after all, what good were letters? Six or 
seven months made a good many changes in a fel¬ 
low. What were they thinking about, how were 
they dressing now, had Bob fully recovered from 
the broken collarbone incurred in the game against 
Harvard last Fall, was Frank putting himself in 
trim for the Summer tennis season in which he 
stood an excellent chance to rank high among the 
national leaders? All these and many more ques¬ 
tions of like nature ran through Jack’s thoughts. 

And then, unconsciously, his thoughts drifted 
away from his companions to Rafaela. Why 
hadn’t he been able to obtain a response to his call 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


49 


that morning? Had affairs down there taken a 
new turn? If so, what? And then, suddenly, ap¬ 
parently without his having previously considered 
the matter, the mysterious disappearance of Ramon 
popped into Jack’s mind. He gave a final turn to 
a loose nut and, wrench in hand, stood up and 
called to his father. 

“What is it, Jack?” Mr. Hampton was crouched 
down, examining the lock nut on one of the wheels, 
and did not look up. 

Jack walked around to the front of the plane 
and leaned against the fuselage, tossing up and 
catching his wrench. 

“I say, Dad. Just thought of something.” 

“What?” 

“About Ramon.” 

“Well, what about him?” 

“Why, just this,” said Jack. “Maybe he, too, 
has gone away to join this mysterious individual 
Ramirez. Rebels must eat, and a good cook like 
Ramon ought to be in demand.” 

“You may be right, Jack,” said his father, after 
a moment’s consideration. “But, somehow,” he 
added, glancing up, “I have a suspicion—well, you 
can hardly call it that, because I have nothing to 
go on—say, a feeling that the mysterious Ramirez 
isn’t contemplating revolution.” 

“What makes you think that?” Jack demanded 


50 


THE RADIO BOYS 


in astonishment. “Especially after what Don 
Ferdinand said.” 

“I can’t explain it,” said Mr. Hampton, going 
back to his task. “And I don’t know what he can be 
about if it isn’t the stirring up of another revolu¬ 
tion. But, there it is. What you might call a 
hunch.” 

Jack regarded his father’s bowed head with a 
puzzled frown. Then he straightened up and 
moved briskly away. “Well, this isn’t getting the 
bus ready for her trip.” And he went to work 
again. 

Whitey appeared from somewhere presently, rub¬ 
bing the sleep out of his eyes and announcing he 
had been up all the night attending a dance at the 
Horsethief Canyon School. He was put to work, 
but was more hindrance than help. At noon they 
knocked off work to take a cup of coffee and a 
hastily-thrown-together sandwich. Tom had taken 
the flivver and gone to Red Butte for supplies. 
Then they returned to work again. 

After the plane had been lubricated and over¬ 
hauled, it was trundled out onto the field, where, 
while it strained against the wheel blocks, Jack 
warmed it up. Everything was running sweet and 
true. It was now the middle of the afternoon. 
Jack once more attempted to raise Rafaela’s sta¬ 
tion, but again without success. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 51 

All right. Dad,” he said. “May as well go.” 

Mr. Hampton was already aboard. Jack climbed 
into the cockpit, Whitey dragged the wheel blocks 
out of the way. Jack saw to it that the motor 
shutters were open, the spark properly advanced 
and the altitude adjustment was correct. Already, 
during the warming-up process, he had satisfied 
himself that the motor was working at its best. So 
now he threw up his hand as a farewell signal to 
Whitey, and slowly eased the throttle on. Five 
minutes later, after a perfect take-off he was well 
up and heading east. 


52 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER VI. 

HIT FROM THE REAR. 

It was not yet dark when Jack reached the 
Laredo air-drome. He dropped downward, sure 
of his welcome. Skimming the fence on the west¬ 
ern end of the sandy flying field, he leveled off a 
foot above the ground. A second later, he dragged 
back on the stick, and the plane came down for a 
perfect three-point landing of wheels and tail-skid. 

As Jack stood idling, running out the gas, a little 
group which had been watching his descent broke 
up into its component parts. The members came 
running, and a sound of cheering reached his ears. 

Big Bob Temple led, with the slighter Frank 
close at his heels. More sedately, Captain Cornell 
who had been with them approached in the rear, in 
companionship with Mr. Temple. 

As Jack and his father reached the ground, the 
two youths in the lead literally fell on them and a 
great to-do of back-thumping and handclasping 
went on. Mr. Hampton was first to disentangle 
himself, and moved to greet his old neighbor and 


WITH THE BOEDER PATROL 


53 


lifelong friend, Mr. Temple, who stood aside 
watching with amused gaze the boisterous greet¬ 
ings of the youths. Greetings over, Mr. Hampton 
turned to the army flyer who expressed warm pleas¬ 
ure at seeing him. 

All three youths by now had their arms over 
each others' shoulders and were doing a dance re¬ 
miniscent of an Indian war fling. Not until they 
were breathless did they separate, whereupon Jack 
moved to greet Mr. Temple and Captain Cornell. 

“Don’t bother about your plane,” said Captain 
Cornell. “I’ll see that it’s taken care of.” 

He beckoned to several members of the air¬ 
drome crew who took the wings on either side and 
guided the ship into line with a number of De 
Havilands. 

“They’ll go over it for you,” said Captain Cor¬ 
nell, “and see that it’s in ship-shape for going up 
whenever you want it.” 

“Fine,” said Jack, “that’s mighty good of you.” 
So eager was he to get away with Bob and Frank 
that he had given no thought as to what he should 
do with his plane. 

Thereupon, with a brief word of farewell, the 
three sallied off arm in arm, Jack in the middle, 
toward where a taxi waited to take them into 
Laredo. 

“We’ll see you all at dinner,” called Bob. 


54 


THE RADIO BOYS 


His father nodded understanding^. When he 
saw the taxi whirl away in a cloud of dust, Mr. 
Temple turned to his companions with shaking 
head and twinkling eye. 

“We really oughtn't to let them go out of sight,” 
he said. “If they don’t get into mischief, it’ll 
merely be due to the fact that they’re too busy 
talking. Well, come on, I’ve another taxi here, 
George, and we’ll follow to the Hamilton Hotel 
and have dinner. Captain Cornell has consented to 
honor us with his presence.” 

The three men thereupon climbed into another 
taxi, and followed toward the town. 

Mr. Temple's prophecy of resultant mischief was 
not fulfilled, however, for, aside from the fact that 
the room occupied by Bob and Frank looked as if 
a small cyclone had struck it, no damage had re* 
suited from the reunion of the three inseparables. 
They were sprawled about the room in various 
stages of undress, sweltering in the oven-like heat, 
despite the coming of darkness and the whirling 
electric fen. And their tongues were going at 
such a great rate, as Jack attempted to put his com¬ 
rades in touch with the mysterious happenings of 
recent days while they were informing him of the 
doings of themselves and other of his friends at 
Yale, that Mr. Temple put his fingers in his ears. 

“Well, get it out of your systems, fellows,” he 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 55 

said. “And then spruce up. We dine in a half 
hour. Meet us in the dining room, and be sure 
to be on time.” 

When the boys entered the dining room of the 
hotel, they found the three men already there and 
seated at a table for six. The room was crowded, 
every chair taken. But the three empty chairs at 
their table had been turned down, and the head 
waiter had shooed away interlopers. All three 
youths had now filled out into big men, even Frank 
who was the slightest of the three. In their flannel 
trousers and lightweight blue serge coats, with 
fresh vivid faces, alive and eager, they made a 
pleasing sight. And many was the approving 
glance thrown at them by grizzled and tanned old- 
timers whom they passed on their way. 

“Been duding up,” said Captain Cornell, with a 
grin. He himself in his flyer’s uniform made a 
distinguished figure. 

The boys sank into the chairs pulled out for 
them, and conversation became general as the din¬ 
ner progressed. 

“What’ll we do tonight?” asked Jack, as the 
dinner neared conclusion. 

“How about seeing the sights?” proposed Cap¬ 
tain Cornell, who apparently considered himself in 
the light of guide to the party. 


56 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Of Laredo ?” asked Jack. “Not much to see, I 
guess, is there ?” 

“No. Of Mex town—of Nueva Laredo across 
the line.” 

“What is there to see?” 

“Oh,” said Captain Cornell, “for one thing, a 
sight that has vanished from our own country— 
the open saloon. I gather that we are all tee¬ 
totalers, but that needn’t bother us. An occasional 
bottle of ginger ale will be our passport. Then, 
too, we can toss a little change to the dance hall 
girls for putting on their turns. And we can take 
a look at the gambling—take a whirl, too, if you 
desire. I remember once dropping a quarter in 
one of those machines and turning up a full house 
on the cards. Paid me five dollars,” he concluded 
reminiscently. 

“Golly,” said Jack, eyes shining, “sounds like 
the Old West—just like the days of ’49 in Cali¬ 
fornia.” 

“Yes, it is like the Old West—but with a dif¬ 
ference,” said Mr. Hampton. “The dance halls, 
saloons and gambling houses of the Old West were 
operated for the recreation of a stern and hardy 
breed of men. Those of Nueva Laredo, like those 
of Juarez, Mexicali and Tia Juana, however, are 
operated mainly for the American tourists who roll 
across the Line in their motor cars. I’ll tell you,” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 57 

he added, “I’ve gone slumming so often that I don't 
care about it. But you boys may as well see what 
things are like, and if Captain Cornell consents to 
pilot you I don’t see why Temple and I shouldn’t 
be permitted to stay here and take things easy.” 

Mr. Temple nodded, a look of relief in his eyes. 

“I’ll tell you, George,” he said, confidentially, 
“Bob and Frank have been a trial to me. If I can 
get away from them for awhile, I have no objection 
to letting Captain Cornell assume the responsibil¬ 
ity.” 

The young army flyer laughed. 

“I’m afraid I’ll be a poor chaperone,” he said. 
“But I’ll do my best.” And he rose. 

The others pushed back their chairs and rose, 
too. As they moved toward the door, a voice 
hailed Captain Cornell from a side table, and he 
spun about to find a huge sun-burned and grizzled 
man in flannel shirt and cowboy boots rising to 
greet him, showing two big revolvers at his hips 
as he stood up. They talked a moment or two, the 
big man’s voice booming and Captain Cornell’s 
lower-pitched, the words of both indistinguishable. 

After a good look at the flyer’s companion, the 
party moved on toward the lobby where presently 
they were rejoined by Captain Cornell. 

“That was Jack Hanaford of the Rangers,” he 
said. “We fellows of the Border Patrol work to- 


58 


THE RADIO BOYS 


gether with them a good deal. Jack has been 
famous along this Border for forty years. Said 
he understood that after tonight Uncle Sam is go¬ 
ing to close the International Bridge at 9 o’clock 
at night, after which hour any Americans in 
Nueva Laredo will have to stay there until the next 
day. So this will be your last chance to see what 
Mex town is like at night, because you’d be hardly 
likely to care to spend the night there.” 

“Why is that?” asked Mr. Temple. 

Mr. Hampton was about to answer but Captain 
Cornell forestalled him. 

“To cut down this business of Americans going 
across the Line and making a wild night of it,” he 
said. 

Mr. Hampton nodded. It was the answer he 
himself had been about to propose. 

“Come on, then,” said Jack. “Let’s hurry. If 
the word is generally known, it’s likely to be a big 
night at Nueva Laredo, isn’t it?” 

“Quite likely,” agreed Captain Cornell. “Ex¬ 
cuse me a minute, while I order a taxi.” And he 
stepped to the desk. 

While he was absent, Mr. Temple with a look 
of some anxiety lectured the youths on the necessity 
for avoiding trouble in Nueva Laredo. 

“Oh, Dad,” said Bob, a bit impatiently, “we’ll be 
all right. Nothing is going to happen. Why, it’ll 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 59 

be just like Coney Island. Besides we're able to 
take care of ourselves.” 

“Huh.” Mr. Temple snorted. “Why, even 
while I’ve been looking at you, you've gone and 
got into trouble that took you a year to shake off.” 

There was a general laugh. Then up came Cap¬ 
tain Cornell to bear the youths away. 

“Taxi's waiting,” he said. “Well, good-bye. 
Look for us around midnight.” 

But at the door he paused in sudden thought. 
“Tell that taxi to wait a bit, fellows,” he said. 
Frank obediently crossed the sidewalk and told the 
driver of the rickety vehicle to wait for them. 
When he returned a conversation was going on 
which informed him that Captain Cornell had de¬ 
cided to doff his uniform before entering Mexico. 

“We're about of a size, Captain,” Bob was say¬ 
ing. “Come on.” And he bore him away. 

Frank turned to Jack for an explanation and was 
informed Captain Cornell had decided not to wear 
his uniform because it would bring undue notice in 
Mexico and might induce some rowdy to start a 
fight. 

The others returned in a very short time, the 
flyer attired in a companion suit to Bob's, and then 
climbing into the taxi all four set out for the In¬ 
ternational Bridge. 

“I thought I was big,” Captain Cornell said to 


60 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Bob, “but you're bigger. Certainly the coat isn’t 
too tight.” And he flexed his arms. “Well, here 
we are.” 

As he spoke the taxi nosed out upon the bridge, 
going at a snail’s pace and stopping alongside of 
the first official. A number of other similar stops 
were made, in order to satisfy a variety of officials, 
both American and Mexican. Then they rolled off 
upon a narrow, rough, unpaved street lined with 
little saloons. They were open-front establish¬ 
ments, and from them came a glare of light and a 
blare of noise. Up and down the sidewalks, under 
wooden canopies, pushed and serged a noisy crowd. 
Taxis and private cars sped recklessly up and down 
or shot from side streets at dizzying speed. 

“Whew,” said Jack, “you know you’re in a for¬ 
eign country all right.” 

“Good-bye, Uncle Sam,” cried Bob gaily, look¬ 
ing back and waving his hand. Then a cry of 
alarm burst from his throat, he leaped to his feet, 
and the next moment was hurled into Jack’s lap 
as the taxi was struck from the rear with a sickening 
crash and went careening drunkenly across the un¬ 
even roadway to end up against an iron pillar sup¬ 
porting a sidewalk canopy. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


61 ’ 


CHAPTER VII. 

DON FERDINAND AGAIN 

Captain Cornell was first to emerge from the 
taxi which had lost its left front wheel in the im¬ 
pact against the pole and canted downward like a 
ship sinking by the head. He emerged as if shot 
from a cannon, for the crazy door had been 
wrenched open by the shock, and he had been 
tossed through the aperture. Alighting on hands 
and knees, he quickly got to his feet and turned to 
see how his companions fared. 

“Anybody hurt?” he sang out, peering inside. 

From the heap, three muffled voices filled with 
various degrees of mirth answered that their 
owners were not in desperate straits, and he ex¬ 
perienced a sense of relief. Any or all of his 
charges well might have been seriously injured. 
But as he saw them struggling to untangle them¬ 
selves, he grinned through a split lip caused by his 
face brushing the sidewalk. 

“Lucky for me,” he thought. “Wouldn’t have 
'dared face their fathers.” 


62 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Then he felt someone plucking his sleeve and 
whirled about. A mixed crowd of Mexicans and 
tourists drawn by the crash hemmed him in, and 
over the heads of the crowd he could see several 
be-spangled dance hall girls from a nearby resort 
standing on tiptoe to behold. 

The tug came from his taxi driver. 

“Hey, you hurt?” asked the flyer, rubbing 
futilely at the smudged knees of his—or, rather, 
Bob’s—white flannels. 

“Naw, except lost a little breath,” said the 
latter, a hardened night hawk. “Wheel stopped 
me,” he added. “But, say, who pays for this? If 
you don’t wanta pony up yerself, better help me 
ketch the old hombre what rammed us. There he 
goes.” 

He pointed to a high-powered, long-snouted 
touring car of midnight blue, with shining German 
silver trimmings, gleaming in the street. A uni¬ 
formed driver had just finished inspecting his car 
for possible damage, and was climbing back to the 
driver’s seat. From the rear, a shrill voice in 
broken English shrieked adjurations to the 
chauffeur to hurry. 

“Old billy goat in the back’s all excited,” ex¬ 
plained the jehu. “Been a-chasin’ somebody, I 
gather, an’ rammed us in ’is hurry. Payin’ no at¬ 
tention to us.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


63 


“Here, that won’t do. We want an explanation, 
anyhow,” declared the army flyer, firmly. 

“Wait here, I’ll be back,” he said. 

And thrusting aside several Mexicans who stood 
in his way, he made a run for the big car just as 
it got into motion. The crowd stared in astonish¬ 
ment. One or two tourists raised a cheer. The 
jehu leaned on his tilting taxi with a sour grin 
riding his features. Bob emerging from the taxi 
at that moment, one hand raised to caress a con¬ 
siderable-seized bump on his head, saw Captain 
Cornell make a flying leap and land on the running 
board of the other car, just as the chauffeur picking 
up speed stepped on the gas and it leaped ahead. 

“Hey, where you goin’?” yelled Bob. 

But if any reply was vouchsafed by the doughty 
flyer, the speed with which the big car got under 
way neutralized it. Bob made a step forward into 
the street in astonishment, but the jehu’s hand on 
his arm arrested him. 

“Easy, pal,” said the latter. “I wanta be paid 
for me damage. Stick around.” 

Bob laughed. “You’ll be paid. Don’t worry. 
But where did Cap—where did our friend go?” 

The jehu explained. Frank and Jack, little 
worse for the accident, with the exception of minor 
body bruises, joined Bob on the sidewalk, and like¬ 
wise received the benefit of the explanation. 


64 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Old fellow was in a tearin’ hurry to git some 
body seems he was a-chasin’, far as I could make 
out,” said the jehu. 

“Well, Cap’ll be back,” laughed Bob. “Nothing 
to do but wait.” He gazed at the crowd surround¬ 
ing them, half a hundred or more, and sighed. 
“Worse than Fifth Avenue,” he said. “I guess any 
time an accident happens, no matter where it is, a 
crowd gathers.” 

The crowd parted to make way for a Mexican 
policeman, swarthy, medium-seized, heavy-mus- 
tached, swinging a long nightstick and with the 
handles of two six-shooters protruding at his sides. 
He started to question them haltingly in broken 
English, but at his first words Jack addressed him 
in Spanish. The policeman’s face lighted up, and 
he nodded violently as Jack continued in a voice 
so low that the crowd could not hear. Then he 
turned and with voice and club-thrust began to 
scatter the crowd. 

The tourists seeing the show was over, so to 
speak, turned away, and the Mexican barflies 
shuffled off. Finally, the crowd was dispelled, and 
the policeman returned and Jack shook hands with 
him gravely, only a slight twitching at the corners 
of his mouth betraying to his companions that he 
nursed a secret sense of amusement. Then, swing¬ 
ing his stick in a jaunty salute, the policeman made 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 65 

off with a “Mil* gracias, senor,” to which Jack re¬ 
sponded with “Buenos noches.” 

“How much d’ye give ’im?” asked the jehu, 
leering wisely and spitting into the street. 

Jack was inclined to resent the familiarity, but 
shrugged and replied: 

“Five dollars.” 

“Huh.” The jehu shrugged. Then he straight¬ 
ened out of his slouch as his roving eye caught 
sight of something in the street, and he pointed. 
“Say. What d’ye know? Bringin’ him back.” 

The boys gazed in the direction indicated. There 
rolling up behind them was the big car which had 
bumped them and which had been boarded by Cap¬ 
tain Cornell. They turned to it eagerly, as it rolled 
to a halt at the curb. Then the biggest surprise of 
all greeted them, for out stepped first Captain Cor¬ 
nell and after him an even more familiar figure— 
at least to Jack. The latter could hardly believe 
his eyes. He halted a moment in astonishment, 
then sprang forward with a cry of: 

“Don Ferdinand.” 

“You know this hombre?” demanded Captain 
Cornell, eyes popping. 

Don Ferdinand, for he it was, stared a moment, 
then threw himself at Jack. Throwing his arms 
about the big fellow, he elapsed him with Latin 
exuberance, then backed off. 


66 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“If you are acquainted with this man, Senor 
Jack,” he said excitedly, pointing to Captain Cor¬ 
nell, “tell him I will pay for any damage, but he 
must let me go. It is necessary. Ah, alas, though,” 
he groaned, “I fear it is now too late. That devil 
has escaped again,” 

Jack was bewildered. Finding Don Ferdinand 
here, in Nueva Laredo, when the last heard of 
him he had disappeared from his home! All he 
could do was to stare in astonishment. But Don 
Ferdinand who had spoken to Jack in Spanish was 
wringing his hands in despair. Jack could not 
understand why. 

Bob and Frank, who had not seen the old 
Spanish aristocrat for a number of years, had been 
slow to recognize him. But the conversation and 
Jack’s use of the older man’s name brought back 
recollection. They crowded forward and greeted 
him. He seemed like a man in a daze. 

Then understanding suddenly came to Jack. 
Don Ferdinand had declared “that devil has escaped 
again.” The light dawned. He had been chasing 
that fellow in pursuit of whom he had left home 
and gone to the mine. What was his name? 
Ramirez! Yes, Ramirez, that was it! 

“Was it Ramirez, Don Ferdinand?” he demanded 
eagerly, elbowing Bob aside to face his friend. 

“Ssh.” Don Ferdinand put his finger to his lips. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


67 


“Too late,” he said, low-voiced. ‘‘He has escaped 
me. But let us not talk about it here. Come, get 
into my car. But first I’ll pay this gentleman for 
his taxi,” he said, pulling out a wallet. “Only,” he 
added glaring at Captain Cornell, “he is a violent 
man. He put a revolver into my face and com¬ 
manded me to order my driver to return here.” 

“Sorry,” apologized the flyer. Remembering his 
conversation with Jack at the ranch regarding Don 
Ferdinand and his trouble at the mine with “that 
devil Ramirez,” he also was putting two and two 
together out of the conversation between the old 
aristocrat and Jack. 

“Oh, I say, you two must be friends,” declared 
Jack, proceeding to introduce them. “As for the 
damage to the taxi—” And leaving the sentence 
unfinished, he reached for his own wallet. 

But Don Ferdinand forestalled him. He thrust 
into the jehu’s hands a sheaf of bills the size ol 
which made the latter's eyes bulge. 

“Is that sufficient?” he snapped in English. 

The taxi bandit made a grotesque bow. 

“For that price,” he said, “the ol’ boat’s youm.” 

Don Ferdinand never even smiled, but beckon¬ 
ing the four young fellows to follow, climbed into 
his car. Bob and Frank hung back, whispering. 
Then, just as Jack was about to enter behind Don 
Ferdinand, they halted him. 


68 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Say, Jack, we haven’t seen anything yet of the 
town,” explained Frank. “And we’d like to. No 
use running away when we just came. As for the 
taxi we can always get another to take us back across 
the Bridge, I guess. Explain to Don Ferdinand, 
and then let the four of us knock around as we in¬ 
tended to do.” 

Jack considered, turning to Captain Cornell with 
a question in his eyes. The latter nodded. He 
was young enough to enjoy a sightseeing tour and, 
since they had all escaped unscathed from the crash, 
saw no reason to return with their original pur¬ 
pose unfulfilled. 

So Jack explained the situation to Don Ferdin¬ 
and, adding that they were staying at the Hamil¬ 
ton Hotel on the American side of the River, with 
Mr. Hampton and Mr. Temple. He urged that 
Don Ferdinand, if he intended to return across the 
River, call on those two older men—both of whom 
were friends. 

“Tonight I cannot, Jack,” said Don Ferdinand. 
“I am staying with friends who expect me. This 
is their car. But tomorrow I shall give myself the 
pleasure of calling upon you.” 

“Good,” said Jack. “But”—as an afterthought— 
“come to the hotel before three o’clock tomor¬ 
row afternoon, as we all would like to come back 
here to see the bull fight.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


69 


The old Don agreed to do so. Then with a bow 
all around, he gave the word to his chauffeur, and 
the latter pulled out into the street, backed 
and headed for the International Bridge. 

Jack stood at the curb, gazing thoughtfully after 
the .departing car. 

“Now I wonder what brought him here, and I 
wonder about this mysterious Mr. Ramirez,” he 
said. 

He had told Bob and Frank before dinner about 
the mysterious events transpiring at Don Ferdin¬ 
and's mine and about the latter's disappearance. 
Captain Cornell likewise knew. So Jack's remark 
was understood. 

“Well, we’ll find out tomorrow,” said big Bob, 
stretching. “Come on, lads. Let's saunter a bit 
and take in the sights. There’s a hot dog stand 
just ahead here, and I'm hungry enough to eat a 
kennel. That little bounce seems to have given me 
an appetite. Step up, me byes, and order your dogs, 
with mustard or without.” 


7a 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“important developments.’’ 

Sleepy-eyed still after their late hours of the 
night before, the boys met at a belated eleven 
o’clock breakfast in the dining room of the hotel 
next morning. While they were dressing the Sun¬ 
day morning church bells had been ringing in their 
ears. At the table, Bob reported that his father 
and Mr. Hampton had departed to attend church 
services. 

“Tried to get me to go along,” said Bob, who 
was first of the boys to arise, “but I wanted to 
wait around for you fellows.” 

Truth to tell, Bob had had a hard time persuad¬ 
ing his father that it would be all right for them 
to attend the bull fight in the Mexican town across 
the Border that afternoon. Mr. Temple was what 
would be termed an old-fashioned man. To him 
attendance at a bull fight under any circumstances 
was to be frowned on. And Sunday attendance 
was little short of a sin. However, the youths 
were now at the age of discretion, he pointed out, 
and could do as they pleased. Bob had pointed 
out that, inasmuch as bull fights were not held ex- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


71 


cept on a Sunday, this would be their only oppor¬ 
tunity to behold one. Then the matter had been 
dropped. 

“Well, that was some night,” said Jack, between 
bites of grape fruit. “Wonder when Don Ferdin¬ 
and will show up and, likewise, what sort of story 
he will have to tell.” 

“It ought to be exciting,” said Frank. “Think 
of your finding him here, on the trail of that fellow 
—what’s-his-name ?” 

“Ramirez,” said Jack. “I can’t get over the feel¬ 
ing, fellows, that we’re in for a bit of excitement 
through our acquaintance with Don Ferdinand.” 

“Aw, shucks,” yawned big Bob, stretching his 
arms widely. “Nothing’ll happen. Nothing ever 
does happen.” 

Frank looked at him, grinning. “You mean to 
say nothing ever happens to us?” 

“That’s my story,” said Bob, “and I’ll stick to 
it. Oh, we’ve had a few little adventures in our 
lives, but that day’s gone. What’s there left? 
Now that we’ve graduated, we’ll have to settle down 
in business. Pretty soon some girl’ll come along 
and marry us, and then we’ll be raising families 
and paying taxes and pew rent. Then we’ll be get¬ 
ting fatter and fatter, and pretty soon some kid’ll 
say: ‘Him ? Oh, he used to be in the backfield for 
Yale—but that was a long time ago.’ ” 


72 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Jack and Frank gazed in amused astonishment 
at their big comrade, and then as if with one accord 
burst into a hearty laugh. Bob’s drooping expres¬ 
sion did not change, however. 

“Laugh, doggone ye,” he said. “But Dad’s been 
talking to me like a father this morning. Said 
last night’s little ruckus convinced him I ought to 
come to my senses and settle down. First thing 
you know. I’ll be sitting in an office and learning 
the export trade. No, I mean it. Nothing’s ever 
going to happen to us again—to me, anyhow.” 

A bellboy came through the lobby calling. He 
poked his head in the doorway, looked around, saw 
only the three at table, and was about to withdraw, 
but thought better of it. Maybe the man he wanted 
was in that group. He’d give one call, anyway. 

“Mis-ter Hamp-ton,” he droned. “Mis-ter 
Hamp-ton.” 

“Hey.” Jack leaped startled to his feet “What 
is it?” 

The bellboy advanced, holding out a telegram in 
a yellow envelope. 

“Must be for your father,” suggested Frank. 

Jack took it and read the typewritten superscip- 
tion. “No, it’s for me.” 

He handed the bellboy a tip, and the latter turned 
away. Then Jack slit open the envelope, drew out 
the telegram and read it. The next moment, he 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


73 


whirled to his companions, throwing the message 
down on the table between them. 

“Hum. Read that. Then say nothing exciting 
is going to happen.” 

With quickened interest, Bob and Frank put 
their heads together and bent to read. This is 
what they saw: 

“Do not look for me today. Important develop¬ 
ments. Thousand pardons. 

“F.” 

They looked up puzzled. 

“F. must be Don Ferdinand,” said Jack. “Now 
d'you see?” 

“All I can see is that he says he can't be here,” 
said Bob. 

Jack punched him disgustedly. “Wake up, Bob. 
If important developments have occurred, it can 
only have to do with this fellow Ramirez. Don 
Ferdinand was after him last night, when he 
smashed into our taxi and was so delayed that he 
lost him. Now the old fire-eater has got track of 
Ramirez again and is going after him.” 

“Well, what's that got to do with us ?” grumbled 
Bob, whose pessimism this morning was too deep 
to be quickly dispelled. 

“Oh, Bob, don't be so gloomy,” said Frank, his 
quick eager face alight. “Jack’s right. I seem to 


74 


THE RADIO BOYS 


smell excitement, and I’m sure that we’re going 
to get into it some way.” 

“That’s the way I feel, too,” said Jack. “Some¬ 
thing’s going on, something big, or else old Don 
Ferdinand wouldn’t be here. He’s trailed Ramirez 
more than two hundred miles—probably on horse¬ 
back. He had a dozen armed men at his back when 
he started. Probably they’re somewhere around. 
Something’s going to happen. I don’t know what. 
I can’t even guess. But I’ll bet we get into it. 
Come on, you’ve finished breakfast. Let’s get out¬ 
side and get some air.” 

Pushing back their chairs, the others rose and 
followed him into the lobby. As they started for 
the elevator in order to ascend to their rooms and 
get their hats preparatory to taking a stroll about 
Laredo, Captain Cornell espied them. He was in 
civilian clothes—but this time, his own. Crossing 
the lobby he joined them, and all four went up to 
the sitting room of their suite. 

Jack told the flyer of Don Ferdinand’s telegram, 
advancing his explanation of it. 

Captain Cornell displayed a quickened interest. 

“Told you I was going to try and find out some¬ 
thing about this fellow Ramirez,” he said. “Well, 
this morning I bumped into Jack Hanaford on my 
way here. Nobody knows anything about Ra¬ 
mirez, out at the field, by the way. But Jack’s an 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


75 


old-timer. Used to be a Ranger. He’s the same 
man who told me last night that the government 
was about to close the International Bridge at nine 
o’clock at night hereafter. 

“ ‘Ramirez ?’ said Hannaford, ‘Ramirez ?’ He 
looked thoughtful. ‘Would he be a little fellow 
now, with blue powder burns on the left cheek an* 
a hooked nose like a poll parrot an’ a limp in ’is 
right leg?’ 

“I laughed. ‘How do I know what he looks like 
when I’ve never seen him?’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ said Jack, not one bit phased by my re¬ 
mark, ‘yes,’ that would be him. An’ what would 
ye be after wantin’ with Ramirez? He’s a bad 
hombre.’ 

“ ‘I gathered that much/ I said. ‘But I don’t 
want to find him. Somebody else does, though. 
So he’s a bad hombre. Jack? How bad? Is he a 
Mexican revolutionist?’ 

“‘Revolutionist?’ snorts Hannaford. ‘No, he 
ain’t no petty bandit callin’ himself a General. He’s 
a bigger crook than that. Why, he’s the biggest 
crook on the Border by all odds. Government’s 
been after him for twenty years, but never could 
get the goods on him. You know all about him. 
Why d’ye ask me?’ 

“ ‘Crook?’ said I. ‘How come, Hannaford?’ 

“ ‘Smuggler,’ said he. 


76 


THE RADIO BOYS 


'Then I did get excited, fellows. It all came 
back to me. I remembered the name. When you 
first mentioned it, Jack, back there at your home it 
sounded familiar. But like you I got to thinking 
of revolutionists. That put me off the track. So 
now I said to Hannaford, 'Look here. You mean 
the Master Mind?’ 

“Hannaford snorted again. ‘Yeah, that’s what 
the newspapers call him. But he ain’t any Master 
Mind. He’s just a doggone smart crook. But he’ll 
get his some day. I only hope it’s on this side of 
the Line, so I can get a crack at him. His gang 
croaked my old side-kick, years ago. Just the same, 
you’ll have to admit he is smart. Why, he fools 
you boys of the Border Patrol in your airplanes 
just as easy as he used to fool us when we chased 
him on horseback. He’s smuggled everything 
from Chinamen to diamonds in his time. What 
he’s up to now, I don’t know. You’re the first 
that’s mentioned him in a year.’ 

“So then I asked Jack if that was true, if he 
hadn’t heard any rumors of recent activity on the 
part of Ramirez, and he said he hadn’t. We talked 
a little more, and then I came on here. Thought 
this much would be interesting, anyhow, and that 
your friend Don Ferdinand might complete 
the picture. Now here you get a telegram 
which as good as says he’s on Ramirez’s track 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


77 


once more. Nothing to do but wait I guess.” 

And the flyer subsided. 

He had contributed real news, however. And 
their plans for a stroll forgotten, the four talked 
on until the subject had been exhausted. 

Then the conversation turned to Jack's radio ex¬ 
periments, and Captain Cornell, who was really in¬ 
terested despite his humorous lamentation that he 
couldn't understand anything at all about the sub¬ 
ject, asked numerous questions which Jack was 
kept busy answering. 

Presently, acting on a sudden thought, Frank 
got up and unlocked a trunk. Delving into it, he 
reappeared with a small square box. This he placed 
on a table with an air of triumph, and throwing 
open the lid stepped back, gesturing like a show¬ 
man, and said: “Behold.” 

“Looks like some kind of a radio set,” said Jack, 
examining the contents. “And here, strapped in 
the lid, is a head-piece. Looks like radio, tastes 
like radio, must be radio. What is it, Frank?” 

“It's just what you said. Only it's a trick set. 
Had a little time last Winter, and got to playing 
with an idea. Here, I'll show.” 

And carefully removing the whole business from 
the box, Frank proudly held it up for inspection 

“Why,” said Captain Cornell, “it looks like some 
kind of a belt.” 


78 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“And that’s just what it is,” declared Frank. 

“It’s a radio receiving set for hikers. It contains 
three 'peanut’ tubes, Jack. See? And A and B bat¬ 
teries. I snap it around my waist. Like this. 
See?” 

There it was. A complete receiving set. Around 
the bottom of the broad belt ran a shelf bracketed 
at right angle, and on it were the batteries, the 
three little tubes, and the various dials. 

“Here,” said Frank, pointing, “I hook on the 
head-phone. As for aerial, this little loop turns 
the trick.” Lifting out what seemed to be the bot¬ 
tom of the cabinet, he disclosed a tiny loop beneath, 
laid in a shallow drawer. “And, Jack, you think 
you’re some punkins with your experiments in long¬ 
distance receptivity. Well, how far do you think 
I can receive?” 

“I give up,” said Jack, laughing. “How far?” 

“Two or three hundred miles,” Frank replied. 
“Pretty good, eh, what?” 

“Certainly is,” said Jack. “Let me try it. May¬ 
be, someone is broadcasting now.” 

“No use,” said Frank. “I took a look at the 
local paper this morning and read the broadcasting 
program. Nothing on until 4 o’clock. And by then 
we’ll be at the bull fight.” 

“All right,” said Jack. “Take it along, and we’ll 
try it there. I want to know whether it’ll work. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


79 


If it does, we ought to get some fun out of it.” 

Frank promised to do so, and the set was re¬ 
placed in the box. Then Mr. Hampton and Mr. 
Temple returned, and the matter was forgotten in 
the more important matter of explaining Don 
Ferdinand’s telegram and repeating what Captain 
Cornell had learned about Ramirez from the former 
Ranger. 

“Hope nothing has happened to my old friend,” 
said Mr. Hampton thoughtfully. “Didn’t give the 
address of the friends he’s staying with, did he, 
Jack? No? Well, we can’t look him up there, 
then. Some rich Mexican family living on the 
American side of the Border, I suppose.” 

“Must be rich, all right,” agreed Captain Cor¬ 
nell. “That car and the liveried chauffeur both 
spelled ready money.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Hampton, “nothing for us to 
do then except to wait. We’ll hear from Don 
Ferdinand sooner or later. But I do hope he 
doesn’t endanger himself, if only for the sake of 
his daughter.” He looked sidelong at Jack, but the 
latter appeared elaborately unconscious of this 
mention of Rafaela. “Well,” sighed Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton, then, “I hate to appear to be getting old, but 
this heat certainly makes me feel sleepy. Run 
along, you fellows, until time to go down into 
Nueva Laredo. I’m going to take a nap.” 


80 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE BULL FIGHT 

“Better come with us, Temple.” 

Face beaded with perspiration because of the 
steaming heat, Mr. Hampton stood by the bed on 
which his companion, partially disrobed, had 
thrown himself. The draught created by the elec¬ 
tric fan blew across him. Mr. Temple shook his 
head. 

“Not for a million dollars,” he said. “Pm fairly 
comfortable here, and I know I wouldn’t be so at 
the bull fight. Besides, you know what I think of 
bull fights.” 

Mr. Hampton nodded. He was well aware that 
his friend frowned upon the proposed jaunt into 
Mexico that afternoon. 

“I know,” he said. “But we can’t forbid the 
boys to go. They’re too old for that. Besides 
that’s not the way to inculcate principles, anyhow. 
Furthermore, you have the wrong idea of bull 
fights, in a way. To these Mexicans a bull fight is 
just the same as a baseball game to Americans. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


81 


Remember, I know the Latin temperament.” He 
paused, looking down a moment, thoughtfully, at 
his companion. “The boys are young, Temple. 
When we were their age, the prospects of a bull 
fight would have appealed to us, too. Well”—turn¬ 
ing with a resigned sigh toward the door—“it cer¬ 
tainly doesn’t appeal to me, but I reckon I shall 
have to go along.” 

And once more wiping his perspiring face, Mr. 
Hampton went out, closing the door behind him. 

He found the three youths and Captain Cornell 
awaiting him in the steaming lobby, and all four 
went out and climbed into a waiting taxi, whence 
they proceeded toward the International Bridge. 

Other automobiles were streaming across the 
Bridge. The bull fight was to be of more than 
customary interest, for two famous matadors were 
to display their prowess in opposition to each other. 
One was Juan Salento, idol of Mexico, and the 
other, Estramadura, famous Spanish matador, 
who, fresh from triumphs in Madrid, was touring 
Mexico. 

Through the crowded, dusty, ill-paved streets 
of Nueva Laredo went the taxi. The crowd grew 
denser. On the sidewalks, a pushing, jostling, 
eager mass of Mexicans with a thick sprinkling of 
Americans. Boys running in the streets, barefoot, 
ragged, dark, darting in and out between auto- 


THE KADIO BOY8 


$2 

mobiles. Several times the hearts of the party 
were in their mouths as little shavers seemed to 
escape being run over merely by a hair’s breadth. 
Motor cars shot by them or darted from side streets 
with reckless disregard, but fortunately no ac¬ 
cidents occurred, although time and again the mem¬ 
bers of the party expected to hear sounds of a 
crash. 

As they neared the huge amphitheatre, Captain 
Cornell ordered the taxi driver to drive to the shady 
entrance. 

“On the shady side it costs four dollars a seat,” 
he said. “On the sunny side it costs two. A big 
difference—but it’s worth it.” 

They disembarked, passed through the gate in 
the middle of a swarming crowd, and then mounted 
to the topmost tier of seats. 

Under the midafternoon sun the huge ampithea- 
tre was literally baking. Heat waves shimmered 
above the sandy arena in the middle. Yet more 
than ten thousand people were already seated in the 
banked-up tiers of seats, while others were crowd¬ 
ing up by every stairway. 

“Look at the colors,” commented Jack. “I didn’t 
know there were that many in existence.” 

The peons on every hand were, in truth, arrayed 
as the lillies of the field—in the most gorgeous rai¬ 
ment they possessed. They were out to make holi- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


83 


day, and they were dressed for the part. The tiers, 
under the glaring sun, looked like a vast flower 
display. 

While the others were busied gazing here and 
there upon the strange and unfamiliar scene, and 
laughing at the many laughable incidents which kept 
constantly coming to their attention, Frank quietly 
went about a certain task. He had brought with 
him his receiving set on a belt. He opened up the 
box in which it was arranged, took it out, buckled 
it on, adjusted the headphones, and then hooked 
up to the little loop aerial. Sitting as he did on the 
top row of seats, with none behind him, and flanked 
on either side by other members of his party, he 
was unobserved by outsiders. 

Jack and Bob on one side, Captain Cornell and 
Mr. Hampton on the other, were all craning for¬ 
ward, gazing at the scene below, and paying him 
no attention. 

For a little while, until his adjustments were 
made, Frank fiddled with the dials. Then, assured 
that everything was in good working order, he 
leaned back, preparing to listen to whatever was in 
the air. 

Presently Jack looked around as if to address 
some remark to him and for the first time noticed 
what Frank was doing. He began to laugh. 

“You’re a fine one,” he said. “Coming to a bull 


THE RADIO BOYS 


$4 

fight, and paying it no attention, but preparing, in¬ 
stead, to listen in on some broadcasting program. 
Hear anything?” 

Frank took off the headphone. 

“No,” he said, in a disappointed tone, “there isn’t 
a thing in the air except some Morse. And I’m so 
rusty, I can’t make it out. Want to listen?” 

Jack stretched out a hand to take the headphones, 
but at that moment Bob plucked his sleeve. 

“Here they come, fellows. Look.” 

Both youths lost any further interest in radio as 
they gazed into the arena below. 

“That’s Estramadura, the tall one in red,” ex¬ 
plained Captain Cornell, pointing. “And the little 
fellow in yellow is Juan Salento. Listen to the 
yells.” 

Wild cheering broke from the stands as the pro¬ 
cession made its preliminary circle of the arena. 
First came the two famous matadors. They were 
followed at a little distance by the eight toreadors, 
marching four abreast. Four picadors on horse¬ 
back followed, blunt spears erect. Last of all 
came a boy driving a team of mules. And in all 
the world there was nobody so swollen with im¬ 
portance as that boy. 

Laughingly, Mr. Hampton called attention to the 
lad. 

“His job is to haul out the dead bulls,” explained 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


85 


Captain Cornell. “Every Mexican boy in the 
audience would give his right eye to be in that 
boy’s place. Many a famous matador has risen 
from just such an apprenticeship, and some day that 
boy may be the idol of the populace. Who 
knows? Certainly, you can count on it that he 
thinks he’ll become a great man some day. Prob¬ 
ably, he has a wooden sword, and practices the 
matador’s strokes continually.” 

Before the box occupied by the Mexican general 
commanding the garrison, the matadors made their 
bow. Then the boy with the two mules retreated, 
the picadors on horseback drew behind a barricade 
between the front tier of seats and the arena, the 
toreadors with their capes scattered about the arena, 
and Estramadura who was to kill the first bull 
lounged by himself with a bored air. 

On the topmost tier of seats on the shady side, 
five Americans leaned forward almost as interested 
—yet not quite—as the thousands of Mexicans 
about them. All that had gone before was merely 
a flourish. The drama was now about to begin. 
Even the band, seated on a box near that of the 
commandant, ceased blowing its horns and thump¬ 
ing its drums. 

A door in the fence opened. 

A huge black bull charged into the arena. 

A moment the black bull stood with head down. 


86 


THE RADIO BOYS 


nostrils quivering, eyes flashing. Then he charged 
—straight toward the nearest toreador. The man 
waited until the bull was perilously close, then 
flaunting his long cape in front of the charging 
animal, leaped nimbly aside. 

The bull became more enraged. This way and that 
he charged. Toreadors whipped their capes across 
his eyes. 

He became more accustomed to their tricks. 
The last three toreadors were so hard-pressed that 
they were compelled to seek shelter by leaping over 
the stout plank wall into the runway separating the 
lowest tiers of seats from the arena. 

Hysterical yelps of laughter bespoke the tense¬ 
ness to which the crowd was working itself up. 

“Estramadura’s turn now,” shouted Captain 
Cornell to his companions, raising his voice in 
order to make himself heard above the sudden roar 
of applause. 

The tall graceful Spaniard, clad all in red—red 
shoes, red stockings, red silk knee breeches, red 
jacket, with a broad yellow sash and jaunty, tri- 
cornered yellow cap, strolled lazily forth. 

But he was not so lazy as his actions bespoke. 
Or, if lazy, was nimble. Not for him the shelter of 
working near the wall. He moved to the middle 
of the arena. The bull charged for him. 

The three youths sucked in their breath. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


87 


Would he let himself be gored? How would he 
meet that charge? He was weaponless. The only 
thing he held in his hands was a voluminous red 
cape. 

The matador flicked out the cape with the merest 
movement of his hands, as a boy flicks forth a 
marble. But that little movement sent the cape 
fluttering wide before the eyes of the bull. 

Yet Estramadura did not budge. He seemed 
rooted in the sand. The bull bellowed, lowered his 
head, charged on. 

By a sideways twist of his body, indescribably 
graceful, Estramadura avoided the nearest horn of 
the maddened animal by an inch, and the brute 
thundered on. The matador had not moved his 
feet. 

A thunderous cheer shook the stands. Men 
leaped to their feet in a frenzy. Hats were flung 
into the ring. Money fell gleaming upon the arena 
sand. 

Turning his back on the bull, Estramadura 
bowed. And as if their former efforts were but a 
mere warming-up process, the spectators released 
another volley of cheers far greater in volume. 

The boys sat enthralled, uttering occasional 
ejaculations, not particularly intended to be heard 
and going unanswered. 

“Look at that, will you?” 


88 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Graceful as a snake.” 

“Some cheering, Bob. Beats the old football 
field.” 

The bull had turned, was coming back. Again 
Estramadura awaited him. Out whipped the cape, 
falling over the animal’s head, turning him around 
for another charge. Estramadura did not shift his 
feet an inch. 

Indescribably graceful he seemed, out there, 
under that blazing sun, every action etched on the 
retina of the onlookers. The bull charged again. 
Then Estramadura lifting his tri-cornered silk cap 
reached over and hung it on one of the animal’s 
horns—without moving from his position. 

It was the wildest kind of daring, the utmost 
display of skill. And in the yell of frenzied ac¬ 
claim which went up was mingled many an Amer¬ 
ican as well as Mexican voice. 

Then, as if at a signal from the *• matador, a 
picador dashed forward on horseback, blunt spear 
leveled, and took and turned aside the bull’s next 
charge. That gave the nearest toreador time to 
get into the game once more, and he diverted the 
animal with his cape. 

“Hey, Captain,” called Jack, leaning across 
Frank who intervened, “where’s the matador going 
now—that daring fellow in red?” 

Estramadura was moving toward the fence. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


89 


“He’s going to get his sword,” replied the army 
flyer. “Now he’ll give the bull the coup-de-grace.” 

An attendant respectfully tendered the weapon 
on a cushion. Estramadura took it, bent it into an 
arch between his hands, then released the point and 
the weapon sprang back. Flinging his cape over 
the sword, the matador strolled gracefully back 
into the center of the arena. 

Toreadors and picadors had left. Only the two 
opponents—the huge black bull and the slender 
figure in red—were left in the arena. 

Once more the bull charged his tormentor, and 
now Estramadura essayed a manouvre which sent 
the stands into positive hysteria. Waiting until 
the animal was almost upon him, he turned his 
back nonchalantly, at the same time swaying to one 
side. And the bull went thundering by so close that 
it seemed he brushed the man. 

Back he came. And Estramadura, tossing the 
cloak at length aside, stood with right leg ad¬ 
vanced, right arm extended with the sword, 
measuring his stroke. He was like a great drop 
of blood against the yellow background of the sand. 
The sunlight on his blade turned it into a ribbon 
of fire. 

The bull charged. One short sharp “Ah” of 
irrepressible excitment ran through the whole vast 
audience. Then silence. 


90 


THE RADIO BOYS 


This time Estramadura moved. He leaped aside 
and thrust downward through the shoulder. The 
bull fell as if stricken by a thunderbolt in mid 
career, and did not move. The matador’s sword 
had pierced his heart. 

Then while the stands literally went wild, and 
the peons, aristocrats and Americans thumped each 
other hysterically on the back, yelled themselves 
hoarse and vied with each other in tossing money 
into the arena, the three youths on the topmost tier 
looked at each other. Their faces were flushed, eyes 
shining. 

“I thought a bull fight was a terrible sight.” said 
Bob. “But could anything be more graceful or 
daring than that?” 

Above the uproar Captain Cornell, leaning close, 
made himself heard. “You’ve seen the best in all 
Spain,” he said. “That means, probably, the best 
in the world. The Mexican just can’t be up to 
that.” 

But they did not get the opportunity to find out. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


91 


CHAPTER X. 

RAMIREZ! 

Estramadura was enjoying his triumph to the 
full. Bowing this way and that, a slender, graceful 
figure, looking in his red costume like a flash of fire 
against the sun-drenched yellow sands of the arena 
and the colorful stands beyond, he showed no dis¬ 
position to retire so long as the ovation continued. 
And the hysterically delighted Mexicans apparently 
did not intend to subside so long as they had breath 
to cheer. 

Minute after minute rolled by while the uproar 
continued and, if anything, grew in volume. All 
about and below the little group of Americans on 
the topmost tier of seats on the shady side of the 
arena were men and women who apparently had 
become temporarily insane. At least, so their 
actions would seem to indicate. They threw their 
arms about each other in true Latin abandon. They 
sent straw sombreros sailing out. Some fell in the 
arena, others on the heads of those below, and when 
the latter accident occurred it merely tended to 


92 


THE RADIO BOYS 


heighten the general excitement. Silver pieces of 
various denominations spouted up and out from the 
crowded stands to go whirling and sparkling in the 
sunshine and fall to the floor of the arena where 
Estramadura’s attendants scurried hither and 
thither, retrieving this largess of his worshippers. 

Doubtless, somewhere in the background waited 
Juan Salento, champion matador of Mexico. But 
he was not in evidence. And doubtless he was say¬ 
ing to himself that he would have to produce a 
sterling performance, indeed, in order to bear com¬ 
parison with the daring and skill of this invader 
from Spain. But not a cry was as yet raised for 
him, not a voice as yet pleaded for a resumption of 
the program. The populace still thrilled to Esta- 
madura’s deeds. 

“Won’t they ever stop?” demanded Mr. Hampton 
of the army flyer. So tremendous was the tumult 
that, even though there was none behind them, and 
they were above the uproar, he had to bend close and 
raise his voice in order to make himself heard. 

Captain Cornell started to make some laughing 
response, but while he was in the midst of it he felt 
a sharp tug of his arm. They were all standing up 
in order to see above the heads of those below them 
who likewise had risen to their feet and, in many 
cases had climbed upon the seats. 

Turning he saw the tug had been given by Frank, 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


93 


who was staring past him to attract Mr. Hampton’s 
attention. 

“Hey, what’s the matter? The fight got you ex¬ 
cited, too?” he demanded, noting the flush of excite¬ 
ment on Frank’s cheeks and the glitter in his eyes. 

“Jack wants you two to look. Down there, two 
rows below us and to the left.” 

Frank was shouting, although bending close to the 
pair on his right. 

“He says that’s your cook—what’s-his-name— 
Ramon, Mr. Hampton. And he has an idea, Cap¬ 
tain, that the man with him is Ramirez.” 

“Where? I don’t see,” cried Captain Cornell, 
staring. 

But Mr. Hampton’s eye had picked out Ramon, 
and in a word or two he directed the flyer so that the 
latter likewise saw. 

Ramon was a true Mexican. Like his neighbors 
he had cast restraint aside under the fever en¬ 
gendered by the recent exhibition in the arena below, 
and he was standing up, cheering himself hoarse. 

Having once located the old cook, the flyer’s 
glance passed on to the man on Ramon’s left. His 
gaze narrowed. Then he gave a sharp exclamation. 

“D’you mean that’s Ramirez?” demanded Mr. 
Hampton, who had been watching his companion. 

“I don’t know,” confessed the flyer. “I never 
saw Ramirez. But I’d say that that man certainly 


94 


THE RADIO BOYS 


answers the description of the so-called ‘Master 
Mind* which Jack Hanna ford, the old Ranger, gave 
me. Blue marks on his cheek as if from powder 
burns and a nose beaked like a parrot’s. If I could 
only see him walk now, and see whether he has a 
limp of the right leg!” 

All five stared intently at the unconscious pair who 
continued to whoop it up along with the rest of their 
compatriots, as if they had no thought in the world 
except to do honor to the Spanish matador. But 
there is something compelling in the concentrated 
gaze upon the back of one's head of even one in¬ 
dividual, something which frequently compels the 
object of such attentions to face the quarter whence 
the stare emanates. How much more compelling, 
then, if five persons fix their minds and thoughts 
upon one poor human target! It was so with Ramon. 

Suddenly he faced about a puzzled frown on his 
features. His eyes roamed this way and that, as if 
searching. They passed unrecognizingly over the 
faces of the flyer and of Bob and Frank. But then 
they lighted up with recognition as they fell first 
upon Jack and then upon his father. With recogni¬ 
tion and with something more. What was it? 
Fear? 

At any rate, Ramon suddenly turned back, gripped 
his companion by an arm and began to address him. 
His words, of course, could not be heard by the 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


95 


watchers above him, but that he was talking about 
them there could be no manner of doubt. 

“By golly,” exclaimed Jack, suddenly, leaning 
forward to call to his father. “He’s recognized you 
and me. Duck, the rest of you. Let Ramirez see 
only us when he looks.” 

There was such a tone of command in Jack’s voice 
that instinctively his listeners obeyed. They had 
only to sink back into their seats to be protected from 
the burning gaze of Ramirez by the figures of those 
standing up in their seats in the row between them, 
should the renegade turn around. And turn around 
he did, a moment later, thus justifying Jack’s pre¬ 
caution. 

Obviously unwilling to face again the gaze of the 
Hamptons whom he had left in the lurch when he 
deserted their desert household, Ramon, nevertheless, 
faced about along with Ramirez. That he did so 
at the latter’s command was plain to be seen, for 
Ramirez gripped the older man by an arm. Ramon 
indicated his former employers, then dropped his 
gaze. Not so Ramirez, however, whose deep eyes 
stared boldly, insolently, as if he sought to engrave 
the features of the Hamptons in his memory. 

Jack and his father withstood the scrutiny, which 
lasted only a moment, and, in fact, did a bit of 
staring in return. The face of the renegade was a 


96 


THE RADIO BO¥S 


mask of evil. Once seen, it would not soon be for¬ 
gotten, Jack for one felt assured. And he con¬ 
gratulated himself on his forethought in persuading 
his companions to drop out of sight before Ramirez 
turned that camera-like eye upon them. Otherwise 
Ramirez would have been able to recognize them 
all again. And Jack had a feeling that somebody 
was going to be needed to keep an eye on this fellow, 
as soon as the crowd in the arena broke up and they 
all took their departure. 

That Ramirez would wait until the ending of the 
event he did not question. What was his surprise, 
therefore, to see the latter face about and, gripping 
Ramon by an arm, start to make his way through 
the crowded stand toward the nearest stairway exit. 

Jack and his father looked at each other. Their 
thought was the same. Ramirez and Ramon should 
be followed. But for either of them to shadow the 
precious pair would be foolish, inasmuch as they 
were known. Somebody else, someone of their 
companions, would have to play detective, if the 
others were to be kept in sight. 

The cheering continued. They were as much 
alone in that mass of frenzied Mexicans as if on a 
desert island, so far as any recognition of their 
presence extended. For Jack to have questioned his 
father would have been perfectly safe. Nobody 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


97 


would have overheard who it was not intended 
should overhear. But spoken words were unneces¬ 
sary. A question was asked and answered in glances 
alone. 

Then Mr. Hampton bent down and addressed the 
flyer, acquainting him in a few brief words with the 
fact that Ramon and Ramirez were leaving. 

“They know both Jack and me/' he said, “so it 
would be useless for us to follow them. But I’m 
worried about my friend Don Ferdinand. These 
men may know something about him. At least we 
ought not to let them get out of our sight, if we-” 

Captain Cornell did not wait for further words. 
He climbed up on the seat and prepared to make his 
way along it toward the stairway. A quick glance 
showed him Ramirez and Ramon attempting to 
thrust their way toward the same destination, and 
making heavy going of it because of the densely 
packed mass of humanity that intervened. Another 
swift appraisal brought out the fact that he would 
be able to reach the stairway well ahead of them, in 
all likelihood, inasmuch as all the occupants of the 
topmost row of seats were standing up, thus leaving 
the bench free for him to walk on, with no inter¬ 
ference such as Ramirez and Ramon were ex¬ 
periencing from another row of persons above. 

“Keep out of trouble/' warned Mr. Hampton 


98 


THE RADIO BOYS 


anxiously, and the flyer laughed. “We’ll be waiting 
at the hotel to hear from you.” 

As the Border Patrol man darted away along the 
bench, hastening so as to accomplish his purpose 
before the occupants resumed their seats, Bob who 
was the last in line of the party swung up behind 
him. 

“The Army can’t get all the fun,” he chuckled, 
brushing aside the restraining hand which Jack in¬ 
stinctively thrust out to halt him. 

A moment later he was too far away to be 
dragged back, and all his companions could do was 
to stare after him with mouths open in dismay. 

“No, you don’t, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton sud¬ 
denly, making a dive for Frank. The latter had 
attempted to climb up on the seat and set off in 
pursuit of his big pal. 

“Come on, Mr. Hampton,” begged Frank, “be a 
sport.” 

The older man shook his head. 

“Two will be plenty for the job,” he said. “I 
wish Bob hadn’t gone, and I’d have stopped him if 
I could. I hope no trouble comes of it. And I sup¬ 
pose Bob will be all right, because Captain Cornell 
can get help by making his rank known, in case the 
necessity of an appeal to the Mexican police arises. 
Nevertheless, I won’t be comfortable until I hear 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


90 


from Bob and the Army man again. And Fd feel 
even more uncomfortable if you had gone, too.” 

“Oh, I say,” protested Frank. “I can take care 
of myself as well as Bob.” 

“Yes, I know,” answered Mr. Hampton. “The 
truth is you probably can take care of yourself better 
than Bob, that is you think a bit faster. I didn't 
mean to hurt your feelings. But, there. Cornell 
and Bob, as you see, have reached the stairway and 
disappeared down it, while Ramirez and Ramon are 
still ten or twelve feet distant and held up by the 
crowd. That’s good. Our boys will be able to wait 
for them outside, and should manage to follow them 
without arousing suspicion.” 

“I was thinking of Don Ferdinand, Dad,” said 
Jack. “And so were you, I could tell. I wonder 
now whether Ramirez is really mixed up with the 
Don’s failure to keep his appointment with us to¬ 
day?” 

“I’d say he was,” said Frank. “Remember that 
telegram spoke of ‘important developments’.” 

Mr. Hampton nodded. “Yes, and that’s why I 
thought it would be wise for Cornell to trail those 
two rascals. But I can’t help wishing that Bob 
hadn’t gone.” 

“Well, it’s too late to be mended now,” said Jack, 
practically. “There. Ramirez and Ramon also 
have reached the stairway. There, they have started 


100 


THE RADIO BOYS 


down. It’s a good thing Bob and Captain Cornell 
were so situated that they managed to get down 
first. It certainly will make matters easier for them.” 

Mr. Hampton nodded. “Yes, and a good thing 
they got away when they did, for, see, the crowd is 
beginning to subside at last.” 

The boys gazed below them at the stands. Many 
still shouted, but large sections were desisting and 
beginning to sink back into their seats. As for 
Estramadura, the matador, he had disappeared. The 
corpse of the slain bull likewise had been removed 
while their attention was otherwise engaged, with¬ 
out their having been aware of what was transpiring 
in the arena. 

“Now I expect this other matador, the Mexican, 
Juan Salento, will have his chance to show his 
prowess,” said Mr. Hampton. “Well, I suppose we 
may as well see it out. We’d have a hard time leav¬ 
ing now, anyhow, for once the next bull fight begins 
it would be much as our lives would be worth to 
try to pass in front of these fellows in making our 
way to the exit.” 

They resumed their seats, and Jack leaning over 
the parapet behind them searched the ground far be¬ 
low for signs of his companions or their quarry but 
without success. The exit was hidden from his 
view. Then he turned back to Frank and seeing the 
latter’s woe-begone expression he burst into a laugh. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


101 


“Brace up, old thing,” he said, slapping Frank on 
the back. “I feel just as bad about being left behind 
as you. But what must be, must. We’ll have our 
chance yet, never fear. I feel in my bones that 
something is going on that spells action for us.” 


102 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XI. 

COMMANDEERED. 

Bob and Captain Cornell bounded down the long 
stairway at a breakneck pace, but one which, for¬ 
tunately, did not succeed in mishap, and emerging 
upon a rutted dirt roadway on the shaded side of 
the huge amphitheatre, paused to catch breath and 
take their bearings. 

Through the lucky circumstance of having been 
on the topmost row of seats, they had been enabled 
to reach the stairway ahead of Ramirez and Ra¬ 
mon. They had brushed by the guard at the head 
of the stairs without that barefooted swarthy de¬ 
votee of the bull fight even being aware of their 
departure. 

The Army man was first to reach the outside, 
and he was taking a rapid survey of the surround¬ 
ings when Bob came to a halt beside him. Big Bob 
was still chuckling over the neat way in which he 
had managed to take a hand in the adventure, know¬ 
ing well that a moment more and Mr. Hampton 
would have laid on him an injunction to stay which 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


103 


he would not have cared to disobey, and fully and 
keenly aware, besides, that right now Jack and 
Frank were filled with envy of him. 

What they saw was a broad straggling roadway 
encircling the amphitheatre which stood on the 
edge of town. The last houses of Nueva Laredo 
lay to their left and some distance away, too far 
to afford cover in case they wanted to hide while 
spying on the movements of the two Mexicans who 
any moment would appear behind them. 

Across the roadway, however, were parked hun¬ 
dreds of automobiles whose owners, Americans and 
Mexicans, were somewhere in the crowd watching 
the bull fight. Captain Cornell’s roving glance fell 
on these cars, and he made a quick decision. 

“Come on.” 

He raced diagonally toward the parked cars, run¬ 
ning toward the right in order to get out of the 
range of vision of anyone descending the stairs. 

First casting a quick glance behind him and not¬ 
ing that Ramirez and Ramon had not yet come into 
view, Bob followed. Captain Cornell ducked in 
behind the first of the cars, a disreputable member 
of a universally known family, and halted. Bob 
was hard on his heels. 

“What now?” asked Bob, with a laugh’. 

Without waiting for the other’s reply he ran an 
appraising eye over the parked cars. They pre- 


104 


THE RADIO BOYS 


sented a far different sight from an orderly auto¬ 
mobile park in any American city, for they were 
scattered about the uneven hummocky surface of 
a sandy field in what looked like inextricable con¬ 
fusion. Nor were any caretakers in sight. As a 
matter of fact, all male human beings and a good 
many of the other sex who were anywhere near 
that amphitheatre were inside of it. Who cared to 
watch automobiles when he could watch a bull fight, 
instead! 

At that moment a renewed outburst of cheering 
signalized the advent in the arena of the bull which 
Juan Salento would be called on to fight, and big 
Bob heaved a sigh. 

“Golly, listen to that. Did we come out here on 
a wild goose chase? I don’t believe those two ras¬ 
cals are going to appear, after all. And we’ll go 
and miss the fight.” 

But hardly had he completed his lament than 
Captain Cornell’s warning voice ordered him to 
stoop below the side of the car, and Bob crouched 
down. None too soon, if he wanted to escape being 
seen, for two figures emerged from the exit and 
stood looking about. There was no mistaking 
them. 

Bob was too busy watching through eyes which 
just topped the side of the car that hid him from 
view, to talk. He wondered what they would do, 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 105 

but was not long left in doubt. Apparently satis¬ 
fied, after a long look behind him up the stairway, 
that he was not for the moment pursued, Ramirez 
started to cross the road. 

He did not head directly toward the position 
where the two Americans crouched in hiding, but, 
instead, made an almost straight line from the exit. 
This enabled the two in hiding to keep the body of 
the car between them. Ramirez would reach the 
parked cars, however, not twenty-five feet away. 

Captain Cornell did some rapid thinking. How 
to keep his quarry in sight would be a problem if, 
as he suspected, Ramirez got into his own car. The 
two Mexicans would drive off, and— 

“Hey,” whispered Bob, “if they have a car here, 
we’ll be out of luck, unless—” 

“Unless what?” 

Unless we steal one and follow. This flivver 
right here isn’t locked. And you can start her 
battery with almost any old key,” said Bob. 

“Good boy,” approved the Army man. “We may 
have to do that very thing. Some poor devil would 
be out a car, but, of course, we could square that. 
And there’s not much chance,” he added, thinking 
fast, “that he’d discover his loss and start the police 
on our track before the end of the bull fight. By 
which time we ought to be all right, hey?” 

“Wonder what’s the matter now?” Bob whispered, 


106 


THE RADIO BOYS 


disregarding the other's remarks. He raised his 
head a trifle, cautiously, staring toward Ramirez 
and Ramon. 

Captain Cornell did likewise. 

The two Mexicans had halted in front of a car 
of midnight blue, long-snouted, with German nickel 
trimmings. It stood on the edge of the parked 
cars, indicating its owner had arrived early at the 
bull fight. Late comers had been forced to go 
farther along the road or to burrow deeper into the 
field. Here, with one foot on the running board 
and a hand extended to grasp the handle of the left 
front door, Ramirez paused and, facing about, ap¬ 
peared to be scolding his companion. 

“He's certainly giving that old fellow, Ramon, 
fits about something,” whispered Bob. “Wish I 
could hear what he's saying.” 

That a disagreement of some sort had arisen 
between the two Mexicans was plain. Old Ramon 
stood with hanging head, just out of reach of Ra¬ 
mirez, while the latter berated him in a voice too 
low for the words to carry to the eager ears of the 
two watchers. 

Bob strained his ears to hear, but that Captain 
Cornell's thoughts were otherwise engaged was 
evidenced when he suddenly emitted a sharp ex¬ 
clamation under his breath, and then squeezed 
Bob’s arm. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 107 

“Doesn’t that car look familiar to you?” he de¬ 
manded. 

“Why, I don’t know.” Bob was puzzled. There 
was something vaguely familiar about the appear¬ 
ance of the big car beside which Ramirez stood, yet 
he could not identify what it was. 

“Well, it looks familiar to me,” said the flyer in 
an excited undertone. “That’s the car your friend 
Don Ferdinand was riding in last night when he 
bumped us, or I miss my guess. Look again.” 

“Golly,” breathed Bob, “you’re right.” 

“You bet I’m right.” 

“But how—” 

“Yes, how? How does this rascal Ramirez hap¬ 
pen to be driving it today? Didn’t Don Ferdinand 
say he was visiting friends and either tell us out¬ 
right or else leave us to infer that the car belonged 
to those friends?” 

“That’s what.” 

“Well, then, how does Ramirez happen to be here 
in it? Say, young feller, this is certainly worth in¬ 
vestigation. The plot thickens. I wonder—” The 
flyer suddenly ceased talking. 

“Wonder what?” asked Bob, who did not take 
his eyes from the two Mexicans, and was in¬ 
terested to note that Ramirez had advanced 
threateningly toward Ramon who, in turn, had 
backed away. 


108 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Why, I wonder if your friend, Don Ferdinand, 
really is playing a deep game, and is in cahoots with 
this Ramirez.” 

Bob shook his head. “Oh, that’s a bit too thick. 
Captain, if you don’t mind my saying so.” 

“Yes,” admitted the Captain, “you’re probably 
right. But what then? How account for that 
car ?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe Don Ferdinand is in 
trouble, captured, killed.” Bob’s voice grew 
troubled. “He’s such a reckless old firebrand. 
And this fellow Ramirez looks like a bad hombre.” 

“He is a bad hombre,” said the Army flyer. 
“There.” His hand gripped Bob’s arm. “Look at 
that. By George, I can’t let that—” 

And without finishing his sentence, he whipped 
out his service automatic and would have darted 
into the open, but for the fact that Bob by main 
strength restrained him. 

“Hold on, you hot head,” said Bob. “He’s put¬ 
ting up his gun already. Ramon is giving in. You 
sure would have spilled the beans.” And he wiped 
his face, on which the perspiration had suddenly 
broke forth. 

Captain Cornell looked a trifle shame-faced, yet 
defiant, as he slid his weapon back into its scabbard. 

The little drama which had so roused him was 
over. Although unable to hear what was said be- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


109 


tween the two Mexicans, the watchers guessed at 
the meaning of the tableau which had just played 
itself out. Ramon apparently had been reluctant to 
accompany Ramirez further. The latter had 
argued. Then he had whipped out a revolver. It 
was this which had caused Captain Cornell to start 
to take a hand. But Ramirez had needed only to 
display his weapon. Ramon had yielded. Already 
he was in the front seat, and Ramirez was climbing 
to his seat behind the wheel. 

“Hate to steal a car,” said the flyer grimly, as 
Ramirez started his motor. “But I reckon we’ll 
have to do it. Of course, we can find the owner 
later and square it with him. But Ramirez mustn’t 
escape, with the fate of your friend, Don Ferdin¬ 
and, undecided.” 

Bob nodded, his lips grimly compressed. 

With a roar, the big blue car pulled out into the 
rutted road, and started away in the opposite di¬ 
rection from them—the direction toward town. So 
worn was the road that Ramirez apparently was 
keeping the car in low gear and not making much 
speed. It was that fact which decided Bob. There 
would be a possibility of keeping the fugitive in 
sight. 

He vaulted into the flivver. 

“I’ve got a key here that I think will switch on 
the juice,” he said, bending toward the dash board 


110 


THE RADIO BOYS 


of the ancient vehicle. “You get around front, Cap¬ 
tain, and crank her. No self-starter on this model. 
Must be the vintage of ’ 76 . Hurray,” he shouted 
the next moment, caution forgotten, “the switch is 
on. Now give her a twirl, and look out for the 
kick.” 

Captain Cornell leaped to the front, seized the 
crank and began to spin it. One turn, two, with¬ 
out result. He cast a glance of dismay toward the 
disappearing car bearing Ramirez and Ramon 
away. Then he gave the crank another desperate 
turn. This time the response was instant. There 
was a sputter. Bob fed more gas. Then the 
engine broke into a roar, and the old car shook 
and rattled as if with ague. 

“All aboard,” sang out Bob, who was now in the 
grip of the spirit of adventure, and had cast scruples 
to the wind. They needed a car, and Captain Cor¬ 
nell was an American Army officer. They could 
commandeer this flivver, if they wanted to 1 While 
Bob was thus consoling himself, he was at the same 
time steering the car out into the road. 

Captain Cornell leaped into place beside him, just 
as the big blue car rounded the distant curve of 
the amphitheatre. 

“Give her the gas,” shouted the flyer. “Let’s 
go.” 


WITH THE BORDER PACROL 


111 


CHAPTER XII. 

A HOUSE OF MYSTERY. 

They went. 

As Bob raced down the rutted roadway, there 
were only two thoughts in his head. Would they 
be able tcx keep Ramirez in sight? And would their 
commandeered car hold together ? It creaked, 
groaned, squeaked, grated, whinned and wheezed, 
but—it covered the ground. And, gaining con¬ 
fidence in his vehicle, Bob opened the throttle to 
its fullest extent. The ancient car seemed to leap 
from ridge to ridge of the rutted road like a moun¬ 
tain goat jumping from crag to crag. And like 
the goat it made most amazing speed. 

So much so, in fact, that when again Bob caught 
sight of the midnight blue car ahead, he had gained 
on it His first question was answered. At this 
rate of speed he most certainly would be able to 
keep Ramirez in sight. In fact, he cut down his 
speed in order not to close upon Ramirez to the 
point where he might arouse the latter's suspicion. 

Thus the two cars, parted by the length of a city 


112 


THE RADIO BOYS 


block, burrowed by means of the bumpy dirt streets 
deep into Nueva Laredo. The sun shone hot and 
dust, whirled up by a brisk wind and further 
stirred by their passage, settled upon them in chok¬ 
ing clouds. Here and there some ancient .crone 
slumbered in the open doorway of a hut, seeking 
the comparative coolness created by the draught of 
heated air through the doorway. But otherwise 
the streets were deserted. Everybody who could 
walk, crawl or ride had gone to the bull fight. 

This way and that bounced Captain Cornell on 
the frayed seat beside Bob. 

“Great guns, boy, take it a little easier, can’t 
you?” he pleaded in gasps. 

Bob clutched the wheel more tightly as a hole in 
the road almost twisted it from his grasp. 

“Slow up and we’ll lose ’em,” he said. 

The flyer groaned. 

“Expect that’s right,” he managed to say be¬ 
tween gasps. “Ouch. Have a heart. How are 
they getting away with this pace? That’s what I’d 
like to know.” 

“Balloon tires on that baby,” said Bob, “and 
snubbers. They’re riding in a Pullman and—” 

“And we’re in a freight car,” groaned the flyer. 

“Don’t find fault with the gift horse,” laughed 
Bob, narrowly avoiding a particularly atrocious 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


113 


hole with the front wheels of his chariot of joy only 
to flop into it with the rear wheels. 

Captain Cornell almost bounced out of the car. 

“Have a heart, Bob,” he begged. 

But Bob held grimly on. They were on the out¬ 
skirts of the town now. For the last several blocks 
they had been driving through a particularly low 
quarter. The huts were of the poorest, being mere 
jumbled collections of shingles and tin or of ’dobe, 
with here and there a little patch of desert grass 
enclosed in a rickety picket fence before the more 
pretentious. As if satisfied with having done its 
worst, with that last dreadful jouncing given them, 
the roadway had become a little better. Bob was 
still keeping his distance of a block behind the lead¬ 
ing car. He was wondering whether Ramirez and 
Ramon were aware of his presence behind them 
and, if so, whether their suspicions were aroused. 
He was likewise beginning to ask himself whether 
the chase would lead beyond the outskirts which 
now loomed ahead, the thinning out of the houses 
giving warning* of approach to the open country 
beyond. 

“If they lead us out into the country we’ll be 
out of luck,” he commented. “Don’t know how 
much gas we have. Probably not much. That’s 
always the way when you need it. We’d look fine, 
wouldn’t we, if we got ten or twenty miles down 


114 


THE RADIO BOYS 


into Mexico and the old bus died on us? Besides, 
if we get out of town, they certainly will know 
we’re following 'em.” 

“Uh-huh.” Captain Cornell grunted. He was 
thinking along similar lines. 

“Maybe, they’re not suspicious of us yet, how¬ 
ever,” Bob said, as another thought came to him. 
“Notice we haven’t turned any corners for blocks? 
Sticking to a straight road that way, it doesn’t 
look so much as if we were following them. Might 
just be going the same way.” 

The car ahead slowed down before a two-story 
frame house on the right hand side, and halted 
alongside the wooden fence enclosing a small weed- 
grown plot of ground in front. The house stood 
in the next block. A street intervened. 

“Turn right up this street,” commanded Captain 
Cornell quickly, and big Bob complied without ask¬ 
ing why. 

At the same time he slowed down, but the flyer 
shook his head. 

“Keep going until the next cross street, then turn 
left and we’ll stop. That way, if they’re watching 
us, we’ll get out of sight. Then we can leave the 
car and sneak back to have a look from cover at 
that house.” 

Bob turned the next comer, finding himself in 
a street as deserted as any they had passed through, 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


115 


and with only a few houses in the block. All were 
mere huts. Not a person, man, woman or child, 
was in sight. The only signs of life were a few 
chickens pecking dispiritedly at the ground under 
a drooping pepper tree in the shade of which Bob 
brought the car to a stop. 

“Whew,” he ejaculated, whipping out a hand¬ 
kerchief and wiping his streaming face. “That 
was what you might call a real joy ride.” He 
climbed out and looked curiously at the springs of 
the old car. They were rust-covered but sound. 
Bob shook his head, marvelling. “How those 
springs stood it, I don’t know,” he said. 

“Come on. Let’s hurry,” said the flyer. “We’ll 
hike up to the next corner and then turn back 
toward the street we left them on. That’ll put us 
beyond them and, unless they’re watching for us, 
we ought to be able to spy on that house without 
much trouble.” 

Bob fell into step beside his companion and they 
moved along briskly despite the oven-like heat 
which brought out a profuse perspiration before 
they had taken a half dozen paces. 

Turning the corner to the left, they saw open 
ahead of them a somewhat more pretentious street. 
At least, it possessed a plank sidewalk upon that 
side along which they proceeded, and the houses, 


116 


THE RADIO BOYS 


which were more numerous, seemed better built 
and the enclosures before them were better kept. 

Captain Cornell's glance roving above the low 
line of the single-story 'dobe houses was quick to 
observe the rear of a two-story house on the inter¬ 
secting street ahead, and he called Bob's attention 
with the remark: 

“There's the house. Maybe, we can find a va¬ 
cant lot ahead which will permit us to approach it 
from the rear." 

But Bob paid little attention for at that moment 
he, too was noting something of interest—nothing 
less, in fact, than a lofty three-strand aerial of con¬ 
siderable extent in the rear of a small 'dobe house 
which they were approaching. As they drew 
abreast of the swinging gate in the picket fence 
which, for a wonder, was not a-dangle from only 
one hinge, but was neat and trim as were all the 
immediate surroundings of the place, a boy in his 
'teens stepped to the door and glanced at them in¬ 
quiringly. 

Acting on impulse, Bob halted at the gate and, 
smiling at the lad, whose dark, olive-tinted face 
was bright and intelligent in expression, he pointed 
toward the aerial and asked in Spanish: 

“Radio? You have a receiving set?" 

“Oh, yes, senor," the boy replied, moving forward 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


117 


a step or two, “but more than that, I send, too. I 
have a two-way station.” 

Captain Cornell had halted a step of two beyond 
Bob. No man on the Border Patrol could go long 
without acquiring a knowledge of Spanish, and as 
a matter of fact he had fluent command of the 
language. He understood, therefore, the nature of 
the remarks exchanged by Bob and the young 
Mexican lad, but he wasn’t interested. His 
thoughts were taken up with the problem of how to 
approach the rear of that house of mystery with¬ 
out detection. So now he turned to Bob with a 
trace of impatience and said in English: 

“Come on. We’ve got work to do.” 

Bob glanced aside so that the Mexican boy would 
not observe and winked by way of reply. Captain 
Cornell was mystified, he didn’t understand. But 
he had a good deal of respect for his companion, 
little though he knew him, so he decided to hold 
his hand a moment until he could discover what 
Bob had in mind. For that Bob was up to some¬ 
thing, he felt assured. He moved closer. 

Bob laughed, leaning on the gate as if he had 
nothing in the world to do but exchange pleasant 
conversation with the Mexican boy. 

“Radio certainly is fascinating,” he replied in 
Spanish. “But I shouldn’t have thought it would 
keep you from the bull fight.” 


118 


THE BADIO BOYS 


“You are an American, senor, aren’t you?” 
asked the boy, a trace of scorn on his features. “The 
senor speaks my language well. But I can tell. 
[Well, that accounts for your mistake. Not all 
Mexicans are animals.” 

“Oh, here, here,” cut in Bob, apologetically, “I 
didn’t mean any harm. Why, I’ve just come from 
the bull fight myself, and I thought it mighty ex¬ 
citing.” 

The boy’s expression became somewhat mollified. 

“You see,” Bob hurried on, anxious to overcome 
the bad impression he obviously had created, and 
still a bit puzzled as to just why the boy had taken 
offense; “you see,” he said, “I, myself, am a radio 
enthusiast, and I know just how wrapped up in it 
a fellow can become.” 

“Oh,” the boy moved closer. “The senor Amer¬ 
icano will forgive my hasty temper. You see,” he 
added, breaking into more hurried speech, “my 
mother is a widow who lets me do as I will in 
working with radio. But all her friends, they say” 
—and he shrugged—“they say she is foolish, 
touched in the head, to let me do so. They say, 
senor, that the good God did not want us to hear 
through the air for long distances or he would have 
equipped our ears. They say what I do is sac¬ 
rilege.” 

He laughed with a touch of bitterness. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


119 


Bob was taken aback. He saw now why his re¬ 
mark about the bull fight had given offence. The 
boy was embittered against people of his own race. 
Poor kid, thought Bob, what a tough time he must 
have! Fortunately his mother supported him. 
Though how a Mexican widow, living in this poor 
quarter of the town, should possess enough money 
to enable her son to indulge his hobby was a facer. 

While he still struggled mentally for a reply, 
Captain Cornell cut in with: 

“Come on, Bob. They’ll get away, maybe. 
Thought you had something up your sleeve! But 
just chinning this kid isn’t getting us anywhere.” 

Bob saw he would have to inform his companion 
of what was in his mind, so he replied rapidly: 

“Just a minute, Captain. What I wanted was 
to get the boy’s interest and then ask him about 
that house.” 

“Oh.” Captain Cornell saw the light, and his 
impatience in a measure abated. 

“Well,” said Bob, addressing the boy again, “my 
friend here is anxious to be gone, so I suppose I’ll 
have to stop. I’d like to talk some more to you 
about radio, though. Maybe, some time, you’ll let 
me have a look at your set.” 

“Oh, yes, senor,” said the boy, all eagerness. 
“Right now, if the senor wishes.” 

“No,” said Bob, “I’ll have to be moving. By 


120 


THE RADIO BOYS 


the way, though,” he added, letting his glance rove 
toward the rear of the two-story house on the next 
street, the upper windows of which could be seen 
above the low ’dobe adjoining the boy’s home; “by 
the way, though, do you know who happens to live 
in that house?” 

The boy stepped closer, in order to face about 
and see what place Bob was indicating. 

“Oh, that house. Why, senor, it is somewhat of 
a mystery in this neighborhood. A Japanese 
gentleman lives there, and many Japanese come 
and go continually. But none of us has ever 
spoken to those people. The windows, as you see, 
are always shuttered.” 

He turned around to face Bob and drew closer. 
Instinctively, his voice dropped as he added: 

“Every now and then there are many cars which 
come up there at night and then depart—nobody 
knows where. They are closed cars. And last 
night, senor, there was a scream, a terrible scream. 
I was sitting up very late at my radio, and had just 
gone to the door to get a breath of air. Then I 
heard it.” 

“Hey, Captain,” said Bob, excitedly, turning to 
his companion, “hear that?” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


121 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CAPTAIN CORNELL INVESTIGATES. 

Indeed, Captain Cornell had heard, and he im¬ 
mediately moved into place at the gate beside Bob 
and began asking excited questions in Spanish. Was 
it a man or a woman who screamed? A man? Oh, 
and the Captain’s face betrayed disappointment. 
Mere mention of the fact that a scream had shattered 
the midnight quiet in this remote quarter had 
aroused his sense of the romantic to a point where, 
with nothing else to go on, he had imagined the be¬ 
ginnings of a pretty mystery centering about a 
damsel in distress. 

What a come-down to find not a woman but a man 
had screamed! Still he was an incorrigible romantic¬ 
ist. His imagination leaped to other possibilities. 
He shot other questions at the boy. There had been 
a fight, not so? Shots had been fired? The Mexican 
police had appeared on the scene? 

But to all these questions the boy shook his head 
by way of reply. No, nothing. Only that first 
blood-curdling scream, such a scream as made the 


122 


THE RADIO BOYS 


hair stand on end. He, Juan Salazar, was his 
mother's sole defender. He had therefore not 
deemed it advisable to leave the house defenceless 
and go to investigate. And at that statement, both 
Bob and Captain Cornell found it difficult to repress 
their smiles. But they managed to do so and thus 
avoided giving the boy deadly offense. On the com 
trary, continued the boy, he had withdrawn indoors, 
barred the door and put out his light in order not to 
call attention to his house, in case—in case- 

Captain Cornell came to the youth's rescue with 
a grave nod. 

“That was the right thing to do." 

“But, oh, the senor must believe me," said the boy. 
“It was a terrible scream." 

Bob and the flyer looked at each other. “Couldn't 
have been Don Ferdinand," said Bob. “He didn't 
disappear until this morning. At least, it was only 
a few hours ago that we got his telegram.” 

“Mind reader," accused the flyer. “That's just 
what I was thinking of. But—then who was it?" 

“Don’t ask me," said Bob. And then a daring 
light came into his eyes. “What do you say to our 
making an investigation?" 

“Huh. How?" 

“Why—why—I don't know. How would you go 
about it? Just mosey up to the door and say to who¬ 
ever comes: ‘Who made that noise last night?' * 



WITH THE BORDER PATROL 123 

The flyer gave a short laugh. “We’d get far, 
wouldn't we ?” 

“Well, we might go up to the front door and ask 
to see Don Ferdinand. Just say we noticed his car 
in the street and dropped in to see him.” 

“Huh.” The flyer grunted disgustedly. “You'll 
have to do better than that.” 

“Well, then, think of something yourself,” said 
Bob. “What's the matter with that last idea, any¬ 
how? We’ve got—no, by George, I haven’t any 
weapon. But you've got your service automatic. I 
know, because you pulled it out back there outside 
the bull ring. We’d certainly take ’em by surprise, 
and something might come of it.” 

Captain Cornell shook his head pityingly. “You’ve 
been out in this sun too long, old man,” he said. 

While this semi-humorous conversation had been 
going on, the Mexican boy had withdrawn a short 
distance and stood with his hands thrust into his 
pockets and his eyes bent toward the ground in 
thoughtful contemplation. Now he looked up and 
glancing toward Bob said: 

“The Americano might like to know that there is 
something strange about that house. I found it out 
by accident one day. On that street beyond”— 
pointing toward the lane on which the two Amer¬ 
icans had abandoned their commandeered car— 
“there is a deserted house. It is only a poor sort of 


124 


THE RADIO BOYS 


place of ’dobe. But one day I saw a man come out 
of it, carefully, looking around as if to make sure he 
was not observed. So, then, I happened to pass that 
house later and, seeing that it was a time when 
nobody was in sight, I tried the door. It was open, 
and I went in. There, senor, I found a trap door 
which I opened. Beneath it were steps. I even went 
down them and found at the foot a tunnel. Senor, 
it was really none of my business, so I did not in¬ 
vestigate farther. But that tunnel leads to the house 
of the Japanese.” 

“Hey? How do you know?” barked Captain 
Cornell. 

Conscious that he held their interest, the boy re¬ 
garded the flyer with a superior air. Then he un¬ 
bent. What good was it to possess a secret, if you 
couldn’t share it ? 

“Oh, senor, that is not difficult,” he said. “The 
man who came out of the door of the little house was 
a man I had seen entering the house of the Japanese. 
He is of my race, and he has a crooked nose and a 
limp of the right leg. I could not be mistaken.” 

“Ramirez,” ejaculated Bob, and Captain Cornell 
nodded. 

“You know this man?” asked the boy quickly. 

“Yes,” said Bob hastily, “we know of him. He 
is a rascal.” 

As for Captain Cornell, he appeared to be lost in 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


125 


thought. After a long moment he turned to Bob. 
"Well, we're on the track of something, that’s sure. 
Let’s walk up to the corner and see if the car we 
followed is still there. Then we can talk it over. 
Guess, we’ve learned all we can from this kid.” 

Bob nodded, and turning to the Mexican lad he 
again dropped a warm word about radio, promising 
to return some time and examine the boy’s apparatus. 
The lad beamed, his earlier offended state forgotten. 
Then Bob and the flyer walked briskly toward the 
distant street intersection, a long block away. 

"What do you make of this ?” Bob asked. "This 
house owned by a Japanese—with lots of other 
Japanese there—people driving away at night—the 
secret passage—that scream last night ?” 

"I don’t know,” confessed the flyer. "I’m be¬ 
ginning to get the glimmerings of a vague suspicion. 
Not all we have learned, however, fits in with it.” 

"What is it ?” pressed Bob. 

"Not worth mentioning yet,” said the flyer. "But 
here’s the corner. Now for a look—see.” And halting 
at the edge of a building on the comer, he peered 
around it and along the length of the thoroughfare 
down which they had jounced and jolted not long 
before. 

Bob likewise stole a glance from shelter, chuckling 
as he did so. 

"We must look like a couple of conspirators in a 


126 


THE RADIO BOYS 


melodrama,” he said, “pussyfooting up to the comer 
and then poking our heads out this way. Good thing 
everybody's gone to the bull fight or we'd rouse 
somebody's suspicions and, maybe, have the place 
down about our ears. But there isn't a soul to see 
us. The place is like a village of the dead.” 

Little enough, however, was there to see. The 
long street was deserted as far as the eye could rove. 
It lay baking under the late afternoon sun, and the 
only object of interest anywhere apparent was what 
they had looked to find—the handsome car midway 
down the block. 

“Calle Lebertad,” read a battered and defaced 
street sign on a post on the opposite side of the street. 
Doubtless, a similar sign appeared on the post ahead 
of them on their corner, but, as it faced outward, 
they could not note it. Bob called the flyer's atten¬ 
tion to the sign, remarking that at least they now 
knew what street the mysterious house stood on. 

“A lotta good that does us,” said Captain Cornell, 
slangily, in disgust. “I'd like to get closer to that 
house, Bob. I have a hunch we might overhear 
something.” 

“So would I?” Bob promptly agreed. “I'll bet 
Don Ferdinand is in there, and I'd like to get him 
out.” 

“Not much chance of that right now,” said the 
flyer. He was silent, thinking. Finally he gave a 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 127 

decisive little nod. “By George, it's better than 
doing nothing.” 

“What is? Shall we have a try at storming the 
place ?” 

“No, of course not. But I think I’ll take a stroll 
down the street Maybe I’ll hear something. The 
house is isolated. It’s probably open on account of 
this heat. If people are talking inside, I may catch 
a hint of what’s going on.” 

“You’ll take a stroll?” said Bob. “Why not 
‘we’?” 

“No, I’ll go alone. Best not to put our eggs in 
one basket. Besides if by any chance, somebody 
jumps me, I’ve got a gun and can defend myself. 
You haven’t” 

“Huh. Guess I can swing a mean fist” 

The flyer grinned. “Nothing doing. I’ve got 
charge of this expedition, and orders are that you 
stay here and watch me. Besides, if I get into 
trouble, you’ll be free to bring aid, while if you were 
along and we both were done in—just supposing the 
worst that might happen—where would your friends 
look for us ?” 

Bob grumbled, only half-convinced. 

“I’ll stroll around the block and join you here 
again,” said the flyer. “Nothing’s going to happen. 
Really, there’s not much sense in my going, only I 
do feel that there’s a chance of learning something. 


128 


THE RADIO BOYS 


In case anything does happen to me, hop back to our 
stolen flivver and light out for Laredo and when you 
get near the Bridge abandon the car so that you 
won’t be stopped in case the owner has sent out a 
police warning. We’ll square accounts for that car 
later. Cross the Bridge and go to the nearest tele¬ 
phone and call the Border Patrol. Ask for Captain 
Murray. Remember that name, Murray. Tell him 
what’s what, and he’ll attend to the rest. And don’t 
by any chance make the mistake of trying to come to 
my rescue single-handed, because without a gun 
you’d be a goner. And you’d be throwing away my 
chance, too. I don’t think anything’s going to hap¬ 
pen, but if it does, I want to be sure you’ll stick to 
that plan. How about it?” 

“Oh, all right,” said Bob, ungraciously. “I’ll do 
as you say. Only you must see that it doesn’t give 
me a chance for action.” 

“That remains to be seen. If you should have to 
call for Murray, you’ll have to be his guide. And 
that would bring you action a-plenty.” 

“Wouldn’t he be out of luck, invading a foreign 
country?” asked Bob, curiously. 

“Leave that to him. Anyway, what are we 
doing?” 

“Oh, we’re just acting on our own,” said Bob. 
“That’s different.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 129 

“Not much. Well, so long. See you in a couple 
of minutes.” 

“So long,” answered Bob. “And the best of 
luck.” 

Thereupon Captain Cornell strolled nonchalantly 
around the corner, and set off at the dawdling pace 
of the loafer, toward the house of mystery and the 
car of midnight blue. 


130 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A NOVEL S. O. S. 

It was a silent sun-drenched street. Down at 
the bull ring they were just then watching Estra- 
madura in the act of despatching his second bull, 
with ahead of them the prospect of Juan Salento 
playing a return engagement, making the fourth 
and final fight of the afternoon. No well-regulated 
bull fight at Nueva Laredo would pretend to be 
worthy of consideration without four encounters. 
Estramadura had been followed by his Mexican 
rival, who had successfully defended his reputation 
and had performed even more thrillingly than his 
fellow matador from Spain. Practically all Nueva 
Laredo was down there making holiday, and so not 
a soul appeared in sight on the sun-filled Calle 
Libertad except Captain Cornell. 

Reconnoitering from the corner, Bob watched 
the departing back of his companion, enviously at 
first. Just his luck, he thought somewhat bitterly, 
to be left out of the fun. He recalled his words 
earlier uttered to Frank and Jack to the effect that 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


131 


no adventures ever were going to happen to him 
again. Well, wasn’t this proving the truth of his 
prophecy, he argued? Here he was, led up to a 
possible adventure, and then left standing safely, 
out of all possibility of becoming involved in it him¬ 
self. 

Then he grinned to himself as he noticed Cap¬ 
tain Cornell swinging farther along the silent, de¬ 
serted street. Probably, after all, nothing was go¬ 
ing to happen to him, either. It certainly looked as 
if that house of mystery, with the midnight blue 
car at the door, was incapable of producing ad¬ 
venture. Captain Cornell would have his walk for 
nothing. He’d just swing around the block and 
come back to where Bob was standing, and have 
his pains for nothing. 

Bob grinned as he shifted weight on the other 
foot, and sought a new resting place for his 
shoulder against the ’dobe wall of the little house 
against which he was leaning. It was a sour grin. 
After coming this far, affer running off with some¬ 
body else’s car, Bob wanted something to hap¬ 
pen. Nevertheless, nothing was going to happen. 
Of that now he became convinced. It took Captain 
Cornell an interminably long time to reach the 
house of mystery. But now at last he was abreast 
of it. Bob peering forth contracted his brows in 
a frown of disappointment. He didn’t want any 


132 


THE RADIO BOYS 


harm to come to his companion, of course. Just 
the same, he did have the feeling of having been 
cheated by fate. There was Captain Cornell 
sauntering leisurely by the house into which Ra¬ 
mirez had disappeared, glancing casually at the car 
of midnight blue and pausing a moment to examine 
it. 

Bob paid due tribute to that bit of acting. “Just 
what a fellow strolling by might be expected to 
do,” he told himself. “Naturally, when he sees a 
handsome car like that, all by itself, out here in 
the ‘Sticks/ he’ll give it a glance.” 

Then two men came out of the house. The 
figure of one was unfamiliar. The other, however. 
Bob made sure, despite the distance intervening, 
was Ramirez. Captain Cornell straightened up at 
the sound of footsteps behind him. 

Bob held his breath. No, they were merely go¬ 
ing to climb into the car, it appeared. And the 
doughty flyer was saying something to- them. 
Doubtless, a word .of apology for examining the 
car. All three stood in a little group. Ramirez 
and Captain Cornell seemed to be engaged in con¬ 
versation. 

Suddenly, so swiftly that for the moment Bob 
was left stunned and breathless, the other of the 
precious pair who was slightly in the rear of the 
American flyer hit him on the head with some small 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


133 


object. Captain Cornell did not even scream. In¬ 
stead, he fell forward stricken into the waiting 
arms of Ramirez, and the latter and his companion 
started dragging him up the steps. 

At that Bob’s wits returned in a measure and, 
darting away from the corner as if hurled from a 
bow, he shot forward at arrow-like speed. He 
uttered no sound, his feet made no noise on the 
dirt sidewalk that could be heard far down the 
block. And Ramirez and his companion did not 
look toward him. 

But before he had gone a hundred feet, the two 
men dragging the insensible form of the American 
flyer disappeared within the house. 

Bob groaned and pulled up short. To dash on 
and beat at the doors of that sinister house, un¬ 
armed and alone, would be nothing less than mad¬ 
ness. It was the thing which he felt like doing, 
but good sense warned against it. 

No, he must think of some other way of rescu¬ 
ing his companion. And now, as standing there in 
the street, the knowledge of what depended upon 
him alone came to him, he was filled with anxiety 
lest already he might have attracted unwelcome at¬ 
tention to his presence. He looked around quickly 
to see if he was observed, but the street was as 
blank, as deserted, as before Captain Cornell had 
started strolling down its length. 


134 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Yet tragedy had struck in those few brief 
minutes! Bob shivered, not with physical fear, but 
in the uncanny feeling that everywhere there were 
eyes watching his every move. He couldn’t see 
anybody, yet the feeling persisted. Putting it 
down to taut nerves, and deciding that the best 
thing for him to do was to get back around the 
corner and out of sight Bob turned and ran back to 
his former vantage point. There he paused for an¬ 
other look down the Calle Libertad. What irony, 
he thought! Liberty Street! 

Seeing no signs of life behind him, he started to 
retrace his steps toward the commandeered flivver, 
over the route which he and Captain Cornell had 
so recently covered. There was only one thing to 
do, and that was to act as Captain Cornell had di¬ 
rected. Get into that flivver, race madly for the 
Bridge, abandon the car out of sight of the Bridge 
police, and then get a taxi to the American side 
and there telephone Captain Murray at the flying 
field. 

“He’ll know what to do,” Captain Cornell had 
declared. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” was beating in Bob’s 
brain. He began to run. 

“Senor, Senor,” a voice called. Bob turned his 
head. It was the Mexican lad with whom he had 
been talking only a short time before. “Senor,” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 135 

said the boy, coming 1 to the fence as Bob slowed 
his pace, “are you not going to inspect my radio?” 
There was entreaty in his voice. But it was not 
the lad’s pleading which caused Bob to hale as if 
smitten. Great Scott, why hadn’t he thought of 
this before? Why, he could radio the American 
flying field from this station, and while rescuers 
were on their way, could keep the house into which 
his friend had been dragged, under surveillance. 

“Look here,” said he, swinging up to the fence, 
and leaning across with his hands gripping the 
pickets, “my friend is in trouble. Will you help 
me ?” 

“Senor, what do you mean? How can I help?” 

“Let me use your radio to call for assistance for 
him.” 

Bob’s eyes bored into the lad. How far dared 
he trust him? 

A shrewd look crossed the Mexican youth’s fea¬ 
tures. He looked up at Bob, towering above him. 

“Is it something about the house of the Jap¬ 
anese ?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

Bob leaped the fence. If the lad gave him per¬ 
mission to use the radio, well and good. If he 
didn’t, well—Bob’s lips set into a grim line. Now 
that he saw this way out of his dilemma, he in¬ 
tended to use it whether the youngster objected or 


136 


THE RADIO BOYS 


not. But, instead of objecting or of showing fear, 
the boy, on the contrary, was all eagerness to help. 

To him this was the call to adventure. He 
sensed the presence of a mystery, and he was all 
a-quiver to have a hand in it. Seizing Bob by a 
sleeve, he turned and sped toward the open door of 
the little house. 

“Come, come, Senor,” he cried. “If my radio 
can be of service, use it.” 

In two steps they were across the threshold and 
in a spotlessly neat room sparsely furnished, with 
a shining array of instruments along one side wall, 
upon which Bob’s eye instantly fell. But before 
making for the radio table, Bob turned to the boy 
and asked: “Your mother?” 

“She visits her sister. I am alone.” 

Ignoring everything else in the room Bob crossed 
the intervening space in two great strides and 
flinging himself into the waiting chair began hastily 
running his eye over the instrument board in front 
of him. His host was at his shoulder, explaining 
in quick prideful phrases. Impatiently Bob stopped 
his flow of words with upraised hand. He was 
trying to think. 

“What street is this?” 

“Senor, but—” The boy’s thoughts did not fol¬ 
low so readily. “Oh, the Street of Our Lady of 
Guadalupe.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


137 


“Huh. And that street back there”—pointing— 
“the one where you said was this secret passage 
into the Japanese house?” 

“The Avenue of the Presidents.” 

“Good enough,” said Bob. “Thanks.” And he 
swung the transmitter toward him. “Say, you 
know the calls of the stations around here?” 

“Senor, there are none except my own.” 

The boy swelled out his chest like a pouter 
pigeon, and Bob had hard work cloaking a grin. 

“I mean across the Border. What’s the call of the 
American flying field?” 

“Senor, it doesn’t broadcast. I do not know. 
But is it the flyers you would call? Are you an 
aviator? Is your companion an aviator? What 
has happened? You have not told me.” 

“Hold your horses,” said Bob, at this flood of 
questions, lapsing into English. “Thou shalt be 
told,” he added hastily in the youth’s own speech. 
“All in good time. Meantime, there is a man to be 
aided.” 

“And do you call a Doctor?” 

“Yes,” said Bob, grimly. “A couple of them.” 

And at that a plan of procedure which his mind 
had been busy upon all the time that he had been 
answering the boy’s questions took shape and, pick¬ 
ing up a hammer and a metal bar, he began strik¬ 
ing them together in front of the broadcaster. 


138 


THE RADIO ROYS 


“Clang, clang," rang the strokes in the little 
room, until it sounded like a smithy. The boy 
stood with open mouth. It was hot, and the per¬ 
spiration poured down Bob's face in runlets. But 
still he hammered on. Once he paused to pick up 
the headpiece from the table and clap the phones to 
his ears. Then he resumed operations. For a mo¬ 
ment or two he would bang away, then wait, listen¬ 
ing; then he would start banging again. 

At last the boy could not restrain himself any 
more. He plucked Bob by a sleeve. 

“Senor, what is it?" 

“Morse," flung out Bob. “Keep quiet a minute. 
Think I've got 'em." 

He listened, and a triumphant grin overspread 
his features. Then, rapidly, with hammer and 
metal bar, he again resumed telegraphing. Finally, 
laying his makeshift key aside, he spoke rapidly 
into the transmitter. “I’ll be waiting," he said, 
“speed up." 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


139 


CHAPTER XV. 

BOB HAS AN IDEA. 

From that ordeal Bob sat back with a smile of 
triumph upon his face. Hot it was, beastly hot, and 
the very tauntness of his nerves during the time 
when he had sought unavailingly to gain the atten¬ 
tion of the American aviation field had brought out 
the perspiration stinging on his body. But he had 
succeeded, he had gained the ear of a wireless 
operator and help had been promised him in as short 
a time as it would take to journey in high-powered 
motor cars to his present whereabouts. Therefore, 
he could afford to forget the wretched discomfort of 
his body, and did so. 

Why he had used the Morse code he could not 
have told. Something had impelled him to do so, 
some warning or inner prompting not to call in Eng¬ 
lish lest, perchance, there should be someone tuning 
in on the Mexican side of the Border who would 
hear and understand. A certain risk he must run 
in using Morse, yet a considerably lessened risk. 

And at any rate, he had been understood. His 


140 


THE RADIO BOYS 


message of pleading had been received at the flying 
field. Of that he was certain. And now help would 
come, help for the rescuing of his comrade from the 
sinister house into which he had been dragged. 

But how long before the American aviators, rush¬ 
ing to the rescue, would arrive? They had said no 
time would be wasted in attempts to obtain the aid 
of the police of Nueva Laredo, but that they would 
come post haste. Yet still a measure of time must 
intervene. The flying field was some miles distant 
from Laredo. There might be delays at the Bridge. 
Bob’s smile of triumph slowly faded to give way to 
a look of worry. 

Young Juan Salazar watched him with puzzled 
frown all this while. He was too polite, seeing Bob’s 
pre-occupation, to interrupt with questions. But 
they crowded to his lips. There were so many things 
that he wanted to know. This likable young Ameri¬ 
can was in trouble, his companion in worse case. And 
Juan had a healthy’s boy’s curiosity to learn all about 
it. Yet still Bob sat silent, his eyes bent in a grow¬ 
ing frown upon the floor, and still Juan held his 
peace while the flies buzzed in the unscreened room 
for all its cleanliness. Until at length the younger 
lad no longer could restrain himself and cried out: 

“Senor, can you not trust me? What has hap¬ 
pened ?” 

At that Bob woke with a start from his moodiness 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


141 


and looked at Juan a long minute while the thoughts 
upon which he had been pondering dropped into the 
background. Could the boy be trusted? There was 
a ring of sincerity in his tone, an honest scorn in his 
references earlier to the house which harbored 
Ramirez. Yes, he could be trusted. So then Bob 
got up from his chair and strode to the door, and 
back again, and once more sat down in an endeavor 
to still the nervousness preying upon him. 

If there were only something he could do, he 
thought, to while away the dragging minutes before 
help could arrive. And at that he leaped from his 
chair with a sharp exclamation. There was some¬ 
thing he could do; of a certainty, there was. And 
what was more, it was something which ought to 
be done. Fool that he was not to have thought of 
it earlier? 

“Juan,” he exclaimed sharply, “we are in trouble 
of the worst sort. You have been a good lad and 
have helped me much with permission to use your 
radio. Are you willing now to help more?” 

“Trust me,” said Juan, drawing himself up proud¬ 
ly. “You are in trouble. And if I can be of help—” 

“You can, indeed,” Bob interrupted. “Listen. 
This is a mess. It’s too long to explain now. We 
would waste valuable moments in doing so. Juan, 
there are evil men in that house. They have cap¬ 
tured my companion and dragged him within. Me 


142 


THE RADIO BOYS 


they did not see. I do not believe they know I am 
in the vicinity. My friend is an American Army 
aviator. I have called for others who will be here 
shortly from the Laredo flying field. I gave them 
your address, and directed them to approach by the 
Avenue of the Presidents. 

“Attend now,” he said sharply. “Until they 
come we must keep watch to see whether anyone 
leaves that house. There are two entrances the 
front of the house and this secret tunnel through 
the deserted house on the Avenue of the Presidents 
of which you have told me. I shall return to the 
corner of Calle Libertad and keep watch upon the 
front of the house, and do you post yourself so as 
to command a view of the secret exit. 

“And now let us go. We have wasted too much 
time already. They may already have gone. 
Though, if their automobile is still before the house, 
I shall feel fairly assured that they are still within.” 

And concluding, Bob took young Juan by an arm 
and fixing a piercing gaze upon the other’s flushed 
face, demanded: 

“Will you do it?” 

“Oh, yes, Senor.” 

“Then, come, let us go.” 

“But,” Juan frowned deprecatingly. 

“But what?” 

“The rescuers. If they come—” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


143 


“They will come by the Avenue of the Presidents. 
^¥ou must hail them and bring them here and sum¬ 
mon me. Do you understand ?” 

“I understand, Senor.” 

“Then go. And I’ll take up my position.” And 
hurrying Juan with him, Bob flung out of the house. 
The lad sprang one way and Bob another, and both 
ran along the deserted street without anyone to ob¬ 
serve them or to marvel at this strange haste on a 
day so hot that even the scattered pepper and 
madrona trees, the dust of the roadway, and the 
drowsing mean little houses seemed cooked into life¬ 
lessness. 

Back at his comer Bob peered forth with beating 
heart, eager to see if the car was still there, fearful 
of finding it gone. Had the latter been the case, he 
would have been at a loss, indeed, to know what next 
to do. Poor lad, it had all come upon him so sud¬ 
denly that he was filled with self-reproaches and 
revilings. But the car still stood at the curb, and 
there was no more sign of life along the Calle Liber- 
tad than on that street at his back. 

So then he crouched there by the corner of the 
mud-walled house and gave himself up thoroughly 
and completely to bitter reflections. The role in 
which he found himself was one altogether new. 
Many a time had he been in tight places with his 
comrades, Frank and Jack. In fact, wherever they 


144 


THE RADIO BOYS 


went and whatever they did, trouble seemed to fol¬ 
low them as inevitably as tides beat on the shore. 
But never that he could recall had he been placed in 
a passive position. And big Bob, who was not given 
overly much to deep thought, but was accustomed 
when in difficulties to hew his way out by main 
strength or at least to make the attempt so to do, 
groaned aloud. 

The next moment he looked around fearfully, to 
see if he had been overheard. His nerves were 
jumpy. This atmosphere of the dead was getting 
on him. Especially, when he knew that all was not 
as quiet and deserted as the appearance of the streets 
would seem to give warrant. There was at least 
one house in which lurked sinister men. And if in 
one, why not in another ? 

But nothing not seen before met his gaze, and 
once more he returned to his vigil, while once more 
his thoughts played with the subject. Should he-* 
have let Captain Cornell venture forth alone upon 
his stroll past the house beyond? When the flyer 
was struck down without chance to offer a blow in 
self-defense, should he have gone forward as he had 
started to do and make attempt at rescue? Had he 
been coward to halt and turn back? But here good 
sense came to the fore and assured him that he had 
done the wisest thing. And good sense argued, 
moreover, that he had done more—he had, in fact, 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


145 


done the very wisest thing possible under the cir¬ 
cumstances in calling the aviation field by radio. 

And so, somewhat heartened, he turned his 
thoughts to speculation upon what mischief Ramirez 
intended. What was going on in that shuttered 
house of the Japanese? Where was Don Ferdinand 
and had evil befallen him? What had betrayed Cap¬ 
tain Cornell to his undoing? Had he said something 
which aroused the suspicion of Ramirez, causing 
the latter to signal his men to fell the flyer? Had 
Ramirez seen and recognized them at the bull fight, 
and, recalling that, on beholding Captain Cornell 
face to face, struck on the impulse? He could not 
know, and shrugged. These were questions that 
would have to await developments for answer. 

And so he stood and watched the length of the 
street, and wiped the sweat from his face from time 
to time, while his thoughts raced on their futile 
questionings. Every now and then he would look 
at his watch, and each time he would marvel anew 
at the slow and dragging passage of the minutes. 
It was not yet time for Captain Murray to arrive. 
Not by any possibility could he have covered the 
miles so quickly. 

Yet Bob was fretting at the delay. What if 
Ramirez emerged before Murray’s arrival? And 
started to depart? Bob could not halt him single 
handed? And if he took with him Captain Cornell, 


146 


THE RADIO BOYS 


perhaps bound and gagged, what track of them 
could Bob keep? The flivver, yes, the flivver. He 
could and would follow in that, provided they did 
not pass from sight before he could get to where it 
was parked on the back street. But even then, the 
damage would be great. If Ramirez should go any 
considerable distance, if, for instance, he should 
elect to go into the country—to some hiding place— 
how track him without discovery ? 

All he could do was hope that help would arrive 
before any possible departure of Ramirez. And 
while he was thinking upon this, there came to him 
suddenly the suspicion that Ramirez might suspect 
he was under surveillance and might leave the auto¬ 
mobile before the house as a blind and quietly with¬ 
draw with his captive by means of the secret exit. 
True, young Juan kept watch there. But if that 
happened, if Ramirez should seek thus to escape, 
would Juan be able to bring him warning in time 
for him to take the trail ? 

He turned at the thought, glancing up the street 
at his back. And his heart gave a bound, then 
seemed to stop, then raced on. And he groaned once 
more aloud. For down the street, pelting as hard 
as he could come, raced Juan Salazar. There was 
only one conclusion to be drawn and, as that took 
shape in his thoughts, Bob deserted his post and be- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 147 

gan running wildly to meet the Mexican lad. Nor 
for a moment did he note that behind the boy and 
close upon his heels came another figure, rounding 
the distant corner. 


148 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SETTING THE TRAP 

But all in a moment Bob saw, and his heart 
gave a great bound as if it would leave his breast. 
And then he but ran the harder. Until presently 
the running form behind young Juan closed up on 
the latter and drew abreast of him, and then two 
young fellows, breathing hard, paused and faced 
each other while from Bob’s lips burst the single 
exclamation: 

“Frank.” 

“Do I look like a ghost?” panted the latter, for 
in his comrade’s eyes was such a gaze of utter as¬ 
tonishment as to prompt the question. 

“No,” said Bob slowly. “No-o.” And the color 
which had drained from his cheeks returned. 

“But—” And he passed a hand across his eyes, 
as if to test whether what he saw was vision or 
reality. “But,” he added, “how in the world did 
you come here?” 

“In a taxi,” said Frank. And now Bob noted 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


149 


a twinkle in his comrade’s eyes, and he sensed that 
the latter was enjoying the situation. 

He looked aside, puzzled, and noted young Juan 
standing by, all impatience, bouncing first on one 
leg and then on another. 

“But you, Juan,” he said in Spanish, “tell me. 
How did you happen to meet this man ?” 

“Oh, Senor, he and two others came racing in 
a taxicab along the Avenue of the Presidents. And 
I, thinking them your aviators, stepped out in the 
street and called to them to stop. Then they asked 
where you were, and I explained, and brought this 
one with me. And the others—they remain to keep 
watch on the place of which you know.” 

Bob made a gesture which seemed to say that 
he was more deeply bemused than before, and once 
more turned to Frank. 

“Think a minute, old hot head,” laughed Frank. 
“It was easy. You called the aviation field by radio 
and—” 

But then Bob interrupted, as the light dawned. 

“Great Scott,” he cried, punching Frank so hard 
that the latter reeled backward; “what a boob! I 
forgot entirely about that belt radio of yours. So 
you heard me call.” 

“Not I?” said Frank, “but Jack. He was wear¬ 
ing it at the time. He remembers Morse better 
than I because he’s been using it lately. And when 


150 


THE RADIO BOYS 


he heard you rapping out your call for the aviation 
field he became excited, and when he heard your 
explanation and call for help, nothing could hold 
him. He listened just long enough to get your di¬ 
rections. Then he and his father and I almost 
fought our way to the exit. For, you see, the bull 
fighting was still going on and the crowd hated to 
be disturbed by having us make our way out. We 
got many an ugly look, and there were cries against 
the hated Gringoes. I looked for a knife between 
my ribs every minute. But we managed. 

“And then down at the gate there came a taxi 
cruising along providentially. Jack talked to the 
chauffeur, who said he could land us at the right 
place. Lucky you gave such explicit directions. 
And here we are. The rest you know.” 

Bob nodded. He was silent a moment, thinking. 
This unexpected appearance of help changed the 
complexion of matters. He must speak to Jack and 
Mr. Hampton and put them in full possession of 
the facts. But the corner he had watched must not 
be left unguarded. 

“Juan,” he said, turning to the Mexican boy, 
“these are not the aviators, but some other friends. 
We can do nothing as yet. I must consult with the 
others. Will you take my place at yonder comer 
and keep vigilant watch?” 

“Oh, yes, Senor.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


151 


And young Juan, who was all a-quiver with the 
thrill of being in the midst of a mystery, sped will¬ 
ingly away. 

“Come on.” Bob took Frank’s arm and headed 
him about. 

Around the corner, and some distance removed 
from the deserted house which marked the exit of 
the secret tunnel, stood a taxicab drawn up behind 
the rattle-and-bang flivver which Bob and Captain 
Cornell had commandeered at the bull ring. Be¬ 
side it on the sidewalk stood Mr. Hampton and 
Jack, and at the wheel drowsed the chauffeur. A 
quick glance showed Bob he was an American, one 
of the hardened Laredo breed. 

Mutual explanations were quickly made, and 
then the three boys talked excitedly but in lowered 
voices, while Mr. Hampton listened with a smile 
of amusement. Hot heads they were, all for trying 
to gain entrance to the house into which Captain 
Cornell had been dragged, despite the fact that they 
were unarmed. 

But Mr. Hampton shook his head. 

“Why not ?” persisted Bob. “All we have to do 
is to go up to the door and demand that our friend 
be turned over to us. There are five of us, count¬ 
ing the chauffeur, and Ramirez wouldn’t dare to 
start anything with such a mob.” 

“But if he should—” 


152 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“In broad daylight? I don’t think so,” scoffed 
Bob. 

“This isn’t the United States, Bob,” remarked 
Mr. Hampton. “No, the best we can do is to keep 
watch to see that they don’t escape, and for that 
purpose I think we better divide our forces. Frank 
and I’ll run around to young Juan’s corner in the 
taxi, while you and Jack stay here with the flivver. 
We’ll be ready in either case to take the trail, 
whether they leave by front or rear. Not that I 
believe Ramirez will leave until after dark, how¬ 
ever.” 

“All right,” grumbled Bob. “I’ve got sense 
enough to see that what you propose is really the 
right course. Just the same, I’d like a little action.” 

Mr. Hampton smiled, then his face drew into a 
thoughtful frown. “I wonder what is Ramirez’s 
game,” he said. 

“And I wonder how he became suspicious of 
Captain Cornell,” said Bob. “Well, no use specu¬ 
lating. You better get under way, if we are to 
keep double watch.” 

With a nod of agreement, Mr. Hampton turned 
toward the taxicab, beckoning Frank to follow. 
But they were not destined to put their plan into 
execution, for at that moment, Jack halted his 
father and pointed up the street. All turned to 
gaze. A powerful motor car, with the top down 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 153 

and spilling over with men, was approaching at 
high speed. A comet’s tail of dust whirled and 
eddied behind it. And the driven motor gave off 
a droning roar that was music to their ears. 

“Hurray,” cried Bob, exuberantly, “Captain 
Murray and his gang.” 

He leaped into the middle of the street, waving 
his arms frantically, and the car slackened speed 
and rolled to a stop behind the taxi. A half dozen 
young men, looking fit for anything, leaped to the 
ground and crowded around Bob. 

“Where is he?” 

“Where’s the house?” 

“Lead us to ’em.” 

“Here, fellows, give him air,” said one, jovially, 
yet with the unmistakable ring of authority in his 
voice. Shoving aside one of the newcomers who 
blocked his way, he confronted Bob with out¬ 
stretched hand. “I’m Murray, and I guess you’re 
Bob Temple, aren’t you? Didn’t get the chance to 
meet you the other day when Cornell had you out 
at the field.” 

Bob looked into keen blue eyes on a level with 
his own, set in a sunburned face that won his in¬ 
stant liking. Their hands gripped, fell apart. 
Each felt an instinctive regard for the other. 

“All we know is what you gave us through the 
air,” laughed Captain Murray. “Shoot both barrels 


154 


THE RADIO BOYS 


as quickly as you can, so we know how the land lies. 
Then we’ll go into action.” 

“Right,” said Bob, “but, first, meet the rest of 
my gang.” 

Introductions followed, f while Bob explained 
how his two friends and Mr. Hampton, overhear¬ 
ing his S.O.S. call to the aviators, had themselves 
responded. Briefly, he put Captain Murray in pos¬ 
session of the major facts. 

The latter nodded briskly at Bob’s conclusion. 
“First thing,” he said, “you fellows who brought 
two automatics, kick loose with the spares. Right—” 
As his brother aviators began arming Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton and the three boys. “Now, let’s see. 
There are ten of us, not counting the chauffeur. 
I’ll take four and go ’round to the front of the 
house. Lieutenant Bracewell, do you take charge 
with the other half of our party at this end. Mr. 
Hampton, will you and your son come with me. 
Hartridge, Thorsen. Fine.” 

He leaped to the wheel of the big car, and the 
others piled in behind him. A momentary pres¬ 
sure on the starter button, and the engine began to 
purr. Then he leaned out to give final instructions. 

“Boys, we’re going to get Cornell out of that. 
But I want you to remember that we’re in a for¬ 
eign country. If this came out, there would be a 
pretty mess. However, the outfit we are after un- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


155 


doubtedly is comprised of crooks who won’t air 
their difficulties, so I think we are reasonably safe 
from the danger of embroiling the government with 
the Mexican authorities. However, if any trouble 
develops, I’ll take the blame. You all are acting 
under my orders. 

“Now, Lieutenant Bracewell, I’m going to pick 
up this Mexican boy that Bob has stationed around 
the comer and he’ll point out the house. Then I’m 
going to go right up to the door and demand en¬ 
trance. If they turn Cornell over to us, well and 
good. If they resist and I need help, I’ll blow my 
whistle. You will be able to hear easily. Mean¬ 
time, guard this secret exit. Got it?” 

Young Lieutenant Bracewell, a slender taunt 
youngster little older than Bob, nodded. Among 
the aviators was an easy camaraderie that to Army 
martinets would have seemed lamentable. Yet 
co-operation was none the less effective. 

Captain Murray released the clutch and the car 
rolled ahead, gathered speed, whirled around the 
corner, and disappeared from view. 

Wasting no time, the young commander turned 
at once toward Bob with a question regarding the 
secret tunnel. Bob explained what Juan had told 
him. The other nodded. 

“Well,” he said, “the best thing for us to do is 
to get into that house and keep watch right at that 


156 


THE RADIO BOYS 


trap door. Should the rascals try to escape that way, 
it will be an easy matter to bag 'em one at a time 
as they climb out, while if we wait outside for them 
there is bound to be a fight. And we want to avoid 
bloodshed, if possible.” 

Bob nodded enthusiastic endorsement, and with¬ 
out any more being said the whole party with the 
exception of the American chauffeur of the taxicab 
started toward the house. Frank dropped behind 
for a word with the jehu, then rejoined the party. 

“He wants to keep out of it,” Frank said. “He’s 
all right, but he has to do business in this town and 
doesn’t like the notoriety. I told him we’d pay him 
handsomely.” 

As they approached the deserted house, Lieu¬ 
tenant Bracewell took the lead and tried the door. 
It was locked. They looked around for something 
with which to pry open the lock, but without suc¬ 
cess. 

“Here, no time to waste,” said the young leader. 
And stepping up, he placed the muzzle of his auto¬ 
matic against the key hole and pressed the trigger. 
The report was muffled. A strong shove, and the 
door flew open. There was only one room, and it 
was empty and deserted. Empty save for a litter 
of rubbish at one corner, which on examination 
showed signs of recent disturbance. Lieutenant 
Bracewell kicked it aside, and then emitted a grunt 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


157 


of satisfaction. A trap door was exposed beneath 
the litter. 

“Over to this side, fellows,” he said, speaking* 
in a low tone, and stepping to the side of the room 
which would be cut off by the upflung trapdoor 
from the view of anyone ascending from the tunnel. 
“No talking now. We’ll give them a nice little sur¬ 
prise party, if they decide to come out this way. ,f 


158 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THROUGH THE TUNNEL. 

For a little while, the space of a very few minutes, 
they were silent, looking at each other. And the 
hearts of the two youngest of the group beat pain¬ 
fully with suppressed excitement, nor were the three 
young aviators who clustered close in any better 
case, as their flushed cheeks and hurried breathing 
could have told. Until presently the sharp-faced 
young fellow next to Bob turned his uncovered 
blonde head and smiled through blue eyes while he 
muttered impatiently that waiting was too tideous to 
please him. 

“What would you do?” whispered Bob, at random. 

“Do?” said the other—young Harincourt, who 
had stayed a hundred hours in the air, part of it dur¬ 
ing a storm of lashing rain and wind. “Do?” he 
repeated. “Why, what but invade the tunnel.” 

They spoke in so subdued a murmur that their 
whisperings were inaudible to the others. Bob 
stared, fascinated, into the other’s eyes. But before 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 159 

he could make comment on the daring suggestion, 
there came an interruption from an unsuspected 
source. The street door was flung open, and the 
taxicab jehu stood in the doorway. Taut nerves 
taking alarm, all in the room swung quickly about, 
and Lieutenant Bracewell strode swiftly to the 
other’s side. 

“Man,” he said, “you took a long chance. We 
might have plugged you.” 

“Huh.” The chauffeur blinked as if not com¬ 
prehending, and without further comment burst out 
with: “Did yuh hear the shots?” 

“Shots. What shots?” The others crowded close. 

“Why, I heard two—three shots from the direc¬ 
tion your friends took. Thought you’d be cornin’ 
out a-runnin’ but when you didn’t I bust in to find 
out why.” 

They glanced at each other, eyes lighting with 
excitement. Then young Harincourt cried breath¬ 
lessly: “Let’s go.” He started to move toward the 
door, but Lieutenant Bracewell dropped a hand on 
his arm, staying him. 

“Wait a minute. Captain Murray said we should 
come only in case he blew his whistle. Did you—” 
he demanded of the chauffeur—“hear the whistle?” 

“Whistle? No.” 

“Then we stay.” 


160 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Young Harincourt started to protest, but Lieuten¬ 
ant Bracewell silenced him with a wave of the hand. 
No, more. Gripping the chauffeur by an arm, he 
drew him within the room, and quickly closed the 
door. 

“Everybody back in that corner behind the trap,” 
he commanded, lowering his voice to a whisper. 
“And no noise. If Captain Murray is forcing an 
entrance to the house, it’s more than likely that the 
fellows he’s after may try to escape through the 
tunnel.” 

Tiptoeing, the little party, now augmented to six 
with the advent of the chauffeur, regained its former 
position. And for a moment none spoke but, in¬ 
stead, all strained to hear any sounds that might 
arise from the other side of the trap door. But no 
such sound was heard, nor did whistle blast or dis¬ 
tant pistol shot come from without. 

Young Harincourt stirred impatiently. Leaning 
close, he whispered something in Lieutenant Brace- 
well’s ear over which the latter seemed to ponder a 
moment. Then a nod of the head gave assent and 
Harincourt, creeping forward soundlessly, bent 
above the trap door. 

“Great Scott,” Bob muttered voicelessly, “I’ll bet 
he’s persuaded Bracewell to carry out that crazy 
scheme. Well, if there’s any kind of battle going 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


161 


on in that house, it’ll be a good idea to take ’em in 
the rear.” 

Bob’s surmise was correct. It was just such a 
plan which Harincourt had proposed, and to which 
Lieutenant Brace well had given assent. 

But even as young Harincourt bent above the trap 
door, there came a sound from beneath it—a fum¬ 
bling, scratching sound. He fell back precipitately, 
and the others crowded closer. The next moment 
the trap began to rise. Tense with expectancy 
though he was, Bob smiled as the thought occurred 
to him that young Harincourt should have selected 
this of all times to launch his coup—should have 
waited until the very second when the enemy was. 
preparing to emerge. For that it was the enemy, 
Bob had no doubt. Captain Murray and his avi¬ 
ators, supported by Mr. Hampton and Jack, un¬ 
doubtedly had gained entrance at the front of the 
house. Now Ramirez and whatever men he had 
with him were fleeing through the underground 
passage. So sure of this was Bob, crouching low 
behind the shield afforded by the rising trap door, 
that he was quite prepared to see Ramirez himself 
climb out. 

Young Harincourt and Bob, who had sprung to 
his side on divining the other’s intention to invade 
the tunnel, were the foremost members of the little 
party crouching with drawn weapons, behind the 


162 


THE RADIO BOYS 


trap door. They hardly dared to breath lest some 
sound escape them which would give the alarm to 
whoever was about to ascend. For that someone 
was ascending there could be no doubt. The trap 
door was not rising because of any supernatural 
agency. A man’s hand was pushing it up, and a 
man’s foot was scraping on the steps. 

But who that man was could not be seen, for the 
trap door intervened. Suddenly, however, it 
slipped from the grasp of whoever was on the steps 
below and fell back on the floor, almost in the faces 
of Bob and Harincourt. So close did it come to 
them, in fact, that they swayed backward, taken by 
surprise. 

“Hey,” cried the man on the steps, in alarm, 
“don’t shoot. This is your little playmate.” 

And he ducked beneath the level of the floor, as 
he saw the leveled revolvers of the party, all point¬ 
ing directly at him. 

It was Captain Murray. 

For a moment, the party on guard was stunned 
into silence. Then they all crowded forward, peer¬ 
ing down into the tunnel and crying to Captain 
Murray to ascend. This he did, as soon as he 
noted from their cries that he had been recognized. 
And behind him came Jack. 

“This is a pretty kettle of fish,” he cried, as he 
gained the floor and looked around, frowning. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 163 

“What do you mean?” asked Lieutenant Brace- 
well. 

“Didn’t the rascals come out this way?” 

“Not unless they oozed out,” said the other. 

He and the others who had been on guard were 
bewildered at the question, and Bob interrupted 
with: 

“Didn’t you find them in the house. Captain?” 

But Captain Murray, ignoring his question, 
turned with decision and leaped down the steps into 
the tunnel. 

“Come on, everybody,” he cried. “There’s no 
time to lose. They’re hiding out in the house some¬ 
where.” 

And he started running along the tunnel, flash¬ 
ing the rays of an electric pocket torch ahead of 
him. Not knowing what had occurred but willing 
to accept the fact that a chance for action lay ahead, 
Bracewell, Harincourt, the third young airman who 
had been in the group in the old ’dobe hut, and 
Bob, jostled each other for places in the line 
behind him. But Frank drew Jack aside to ask him 
what had occurred. 

“They wouldn’t open to us,” said Jack, hurriedly, 
“so we fired a couple of shots through the door and 
then broke it down. Then we raced through the 
house. It’s a big place of two stories, with ten or 
a dozen rooms. In one of them we found Captain 


164 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Cornell, bound and gagged. But no trace of the 
others, so Captain Murray and I went down to the 
cellar and found the entrance to this tunnel, with¬ 
out waiting to question Cornell. Come on, let's 
hurry." 

And as the way being cleared by the disappear¬ 
ance of young Gordon, the last of the airmen to 
descend, the tunnel was now open to passage, Jack 
darted down the stairs. Frank followed at his 
heels. It was dark, only a faint glow, far ahead, 
showing where Captain Murray’s electric torch 
headlighted the procession. The air smelled musty. 
The walls were little more than a big man’s width 
apart, and the roof so low that the boys had to 
stoop in order to avoid bumping their heads as they 
proceeded. Ahead of them could be heard muttered 
exclamations as first one and then another, in his 
eagerness to make haste, ignored the necessary 
caution and suffered a bump. 

“Bend down, and you’ll be all right," advised 
Jack. “It’s a straight shoot to the other house, and 
the floor is smooth. Come on.’’ 

Presently the two boys, who had closed up on 
the heels of the last of the group ahead, emerged 
into a celler where they found the others waiting 
them. 

“All here?’’ asked Captain Murray, flashing his 
spotlight from form to form. “All right, let’s go.’’ 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


165 


But just as he was in the act of mounting an 
open stairway to the floor above, and had, in fact, 
placed a foot on the first step of the ascent, Jack 
halted him with a hand on his arm. 

“Listen, Captain, what was that?” 


166 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XVIII 

THE ENEMY STRIKE. 

In the sudden silence which fell -on the group at 
Jack’s low-spoken cry, not a sound was to be heard. 

Captain Murray shook off Jack’s grasp on his 
arm and mounted another step. 

“You’re hearing things, my boy. I didn’t hear 
a sound. Ah!” 

The exclamation was jerked from him as, dis¬ 
tinct, yet faint, there came a distant thud. It 
might have been the slamming of a door, or the 
dropping of some heavy object. What it was, Cap¬ 
tain Murray did not wait to hear, but with a cry 
of “Come, come on, fellows,” he started to bound up 
the cellar steps, the bullseye of light from his torch 
showing a closed door at their head. 

After him leaped the others, crowding the narrow 
stairway. But as Captain Murray reached the door 
and grasped the handle, he came to an abrupt halt. 
The door was locked. And as the others piled up 
behind him, there came to their ears the sharp crack 
of revolver shots, muffled by distance and interven- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


167 


ing walls and floors, from somewhere in the body 
of the house above them. 

“Something funny here,” muttered Captain 
Murray. “We left this door open.” 

But in the same breath he was thrust aside and 
against the stone wall on his left, while a bulky 
form brushed by him on the right, along the un¬ 
railed* edge of the stairway, and went crashing, 
shoulder first, into the locked door ahead. The 
door reeled under the impact, but still held. How¬ 
ever, it was made of flimsy material and once more 
the big fellow who had taken the initiative crashed 
into it. The door flew outward, and the human 
battering ram with it, landing on hands and knees. 

It was Bob. He jumped to his feet as first Cap¬ 
tain Murray and then the others started forward 
over the breach which he had made. 

“Which way?” he cried. 

The spatter of revolver shots, heard when they 
had been crowded together on the stairway, had 
ceased. The house was silent about them. They 
looked at each other, nonplussed. Then Jack rais¬ 
ing his voice shouted: 

“Dad, Dad, where are you?” 

A moment. Then from overhead came Mr. 
Hampton’s voice in reply: 

“Up here, Jack. In the front room.” 

There was a faintness in the tone, however, 


168 


THE RADIO BOYS 


which was far from re-assuring and Jack cried 
again: 

“What’s all the shooting for, Dad? You all 
right?” 

A hollow groan was his only answer. And at 
that Jack thrust aside Captain Murray, who stood 
between him and a door leading from the kitchen, in¬ 
to which they had emerged from the cellar stair¬ 
way, into the body of the house, and darted ahead. 

“After him, fellows,” said Captain Murray, set¬ 
ting the example. “That’s the way upstairs.” 

Jack in the lead, the rout streamed through a 
large room bare of furnishings as had been the 
kitchen, and lighted only dimly by reason of the 
fact that latticed shutters barred the several win¬ 
dows. Out of this into a long hall leading to the 
front door, then a sharp turn to the left and up a 
boxed-in flight of stairs. Heavy boots beat a tat¬ 
too on the bare boards. 

Filled with terrifying fears on account of his 
father. Jack was racing madly in the lead, with 
Captain Murray at his heels, followed by Bob and 
Frank, and the others streaming after. At the 
head of the stairway, they turned again to the left, 
entering a corridor which led toward the street 
front. On the left, above the dark stairway, was 
a hand rail; on the right a number of doors opened 
into rooms, into which those of the party who, unlike 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


169 


Jack and Captain Murray, had not before been 
over the ground, peered as they ran by. But the 
rooms were unfurnished, except for mattresses and 
crumpled coverlets seeming to cover every available 
inch of floor space; and they were unoccupied, too. 
The corridor ended at the open door of a larger 
room than the others which faced on the street, and 
into this dashed Jack, going straight, with a 
strangled cry, to the form of his father. Mr. 
Hampton lay on a greasy mattress, near the front 
wall, and beside an open window looking out upon 
the street. His face was white, and his eyes closed, 
and the left shoulder of his light-colored, summer 
coat was stained dark. 

Jack had no eyes for anyone but his father, be¬ 
side whom he knelt with a choking cry which 
caused the latter to open his eyes. 

“They got away, Jack,” said Mr. Hampton, pain¬ 
fully. “But you’re safe, aren’t you? I was afraid 
_>> 

His voice dropped to an unintelligible murmur, 
and his eyelids fluttered shut again. 

Jack looked up, staring around wildly, as if for 
help. But the others had deserted him. And then 
for the first time he saw the other occupants of 
the big front room. In the far corner they lay— 
the two aviators who had accompanied the Hamp¬ 
tons and Captain Murray into the house, and Cap- 


170 


THE RADIO BOYS 


tain Cornell. All three were bound. Jack half rose 
to his feet in astonishment. Captain Cornell had 
been found bound and gagged when they first had 
gained entrance to the house. But how came these 
others so? When he and Captain Murray had 
descended to the cellar in search of the tunnel en¬ 
trance, they had left his father on the lower floor, 
and the two aviators upstairs cutting Captain Cor¬ 
nell’s bonds. He passed a hand across his eyes. 

Well, that mystery must be left to solution by the 
men loosing the bonds of the trio. His part was to 
get aid for his father. He called, and Bob and 
Frank broke away from the little group on the 
opposite side of the room and hurried to him. An 
ordinary emergency might have found Jack the 
coolest of the three. But in a case such as this, 
involving his father, positions were reversed. The 
poor fellow was half frantic. And Bob and Frank, 
with an exchange of understanding glances, el¬ 
bowed him aside and went to their knees beside 
Mr. Hampton. 

The latter again opened his eyes, and as his 
glance fell on them he spoke in a stronger voice. 

“The bullet took me in the shoulder, boys,” he 
said. “Don’t think it smashed the bone, although 
it was a close shave. Wasn’t that knocked me out, 
but when I fell I struck the wall with my head. Cut 
off my coat, so you can see what to do. Then bind 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


171 


my shoulder up with something, and I’ll manage to. 
survive, I reckon.” 

His voice gained in strength as he proceeded, 
and on concluding he struggled to sit up. Jack 
with a gulp of relief got on his other side and thrust 
an arm beneath him. Bob, opposite, did likewise; 
and Mr. Hampton was raised to a sitting position 
against the wall. 

“Stripping for action, Frank?” asked Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton with an attempt to smile that ended in a 
grimace of pain. “No use. It’s all over. They 
got away out of the window.” 

Frank had torn off his light-weight summer coat 
and now ruthlessly stripping off his white linen 
shirt with a great popping of buttons ripped it in 
half from collar to neckband and began tearing the 
halves thus created into quarters. 

“Making bandages,” he said. “Peel off his coat, 
fellows. Don’t stand there like ninnies.” 

Jack and Bob hastened to comply, easing th6 
wounded shoulder as much as possible, and, hav¬ 
ing removed the coat, stripped off the shirt sleeve, 
revealing a hole through the shoulder muscles, from 
which the blood was slowly pumping. 

“Hurry, now, one of you, get some water,” com¬ 
manded Frank. “Must be water somewhere. Jack, 
you’ve been through here. Maybe, there’s a bath¬ 
room. If not, there must be water in the kitchen. 


172 


THE RADIO BOYS 


If you can't find anything to put it in, take this cloth 
and wet it well.” And thrusting one of the long 
strips into Jack's hands he sent him scurrying away 
with a peremptory gesture. 

With another of the linen strips, Frank wiped 
the blood away from the wound in Mr. Hampton’s 
shoulder, discovering that the bullet had entered 
from the rear, where there was only a bluish mark 
that already had stopped bleeding, and had come 
out in front. “No sir, didn’t smash the bone,” he 
said, thankfully, as with deft fingers he felt of the 
wounded man’s shoulder. “You were in luck, Mr. 
Hampton.” 

“I was that,” the other answered. “Came on 
them just as they were leaving. But here’s Captain 
Murray, wanting to hear my story,” he added 
glancing up at the aviator, who, striding across the 
room, was now bending anxiously above him. “I 
don’t know all that happened, Captain,” he said. 
“But between our friends over there and myself, I 
guess we can piece the yarn together.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 173 


CHAPTER XIX. 

CAPTAIN CORNELL STRIKES A CLEW. 

After that it did not take long for the truth 
to come out. And Captain Murray’s impatience to 
be gone rather than risk staying where the police 
of Nueva Laredo were liable to come upon them, 
expedited matters. What had happened was that 
Ramirez and three others had fled to the roof, by 
way of a trap door so cleverly concealed as to have 
escaped being seen and noted by the invading 
Americans. 

Whither they had fled was unknown, however, 
by Captain Cornell. Bound, gagged, flung into a 
corner of the big second-floor front room, he had 
known nothing of his captors’ movements. 

“And so when Jack and I left the rest of you to 
explore the tunnel, Ramirez and his gang came 
down from the roof and jumped you?” questioned 
Captain Murray. 

Mr. Hampton nodded. His wound was causing 
him pain, yet not enough to prevent him from act¬ 
ing as spokesman. 


174 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“I left you fellows in the cellar, and then started 
back upstairs. When I reached the kitchen, I was 
in the act of closing the door when—” 

“That’s right,” interrupted Captain Murray. 
“You did go down the cellar and see us off. I was 
thinking Jack and I had gone alone and had left 
that cellar door standing open. You must have 
closed it, and locked it. Did you? Or did the 
Mexicans ?” 

“I confess I don’t know,” admitted Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton. “But I imagine that in my excitement I must 
have locked the door. I’m accustomed to locking 
doors, anyway. It’s a habit, and I lock a door 
without giving the matter any thought. But the 
Mexicans couldn’t have done it. They didn’t come 
downstairs.” 

“Hm! You speak of being excited. What hap¬ 
pened ?” 

“Why, just as I was closing the door to the cellar 
I heard a dull thud coming from the floor above. 
Then there was a muffled shuffling of feet, as if of 
men wrestling.” 

Quickly Mr. Hampton continued. His first in¬ 
stinctive feeling, after hearing those strange noises 
from the rooms above, was to shout to his com¬ 
panions and ask them what was wrong? But he 
resisted the impulse. He feared that in some way 
the enemy had returned; and, if they did not al- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


175 


ready know of his presence, he had no intention of 
warning them. Taking off his shoes, he moved 
swiftly yet soundlessly up the stairs and along the 
corridor toward the front room. All the time he 
could hear sounds as of men grunting and strain¬ 
ing, but no shouts, no exclamations. 

And when he saw into the front room, the ex¬ 
planation was made plain. The three aviators, in¬ 
cluding Captain Cornell and his rescuers, evidently 
had been taken at a disadvantage. In fact, they 
here confirmed Mr. Hampton’s assumption that 
Ramirez and his assistants had stolen upon them 
while Captain Cornell was being freed from his 
bonds. 

With revolvers leveled at them and under com¬ 
mand not to make an outcry, there was nothing 
the Americans could do except to comply with the 
request to put up their hands. This they did. 

“And what I heard,” said Mr. Hampton, “was 
the grunting and tugging of the Mexicans as they 
busied themselves at the task of roping and gag¬ 
ging our friends. 

“Then I had a piece of hard luck,” he added, 
with a rueful smile. “I decided to take the Mex¬ 
icans by surprise, as obviously they had taken my 
friends. If I could get the drop on them, I might 
force them into a corner and hold them until you 
returned. And I think I would have accomplished 


176 


THE RADIO BOYS 


it, too. They had their backs turned and didn’t see 
me. But Captain Cornell was looking my way and 

_ y* 

“And I gave you away,” interrupted the flyer, 
bitterly. “I didn’t mean, too,” he mourned. “But 
something in my eyes warned Ramirez, who was 
looking at me.” 

“He whirled quick as a flash,” added Mr. Hamp¬ 
ton. “And he shot toward the doorway as he 
turned. I jumped aside, but he caught me in the 
shoulder.” 

“Yes, and I’ll say this,” declared Captain Cor¬ 
nell, admiringly, “you were game to the core. 
Why,” he explained, turning to his friend and res¬ 
cuer, Captain Murray, “that bullet in the shoulder, 
at that close range, was enough to knock another 
man down. But Mr. Hampton leaped behind the 
door jam, and the next second his shots began 
streaming into the room. Say, you should have seen 
those rascals jump for the windows.” 

“Trouble was I had to shoot with my left hand,” 
Mr. Hampton explained, “and I was feeling weak, 
besides.” 

“Out they all went, one after another,” added 
Captain Cornell. “It isn’t a long drop from these 
second-floor windows to the ground, and they took 
the shortest route. I’m sorry Ramirez got away. 
But I’m glad Mr. Hampton came when he did, for 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


177 


I had the feeling that Ramirez contemplated deal¬ 
ing out an unlovely fate to us.” 

‘‘And the rest you know,” added Mr. Hampton. 
“When the Mexicans cleared out I tried to get to 
the window to take another shot at them, but man¬ 
aged to get just about that far when faintness over¬ 
came me. That’s when you called, Jack,” he added, 
turning toward his son. 

A quick council was held. It was decided that 
the best thing for all concerned was to get back to 
American soil, as soon as possible. It was not 
likely that Ramirez would return. But he might 
notify the Mexican police that a party of Amer¬ 
icans had broken into the house; and then complica¬ 
tions unpleasant to contemplate would arise, if the 
police found them in possession. 

There were many things still unexplained, still a 
mystery. Where was Don Ferdinand? What was 
the particular brand of deviltry actuating Ramirez ? 
Why had Captain Cornell been taken prisoner? 
But these questions would have to wait for explana¬ 
tion. What was of moment was that Captain Cor¬ 
nell had been rescued at a cost of no wounds except 
Mr. Hampton’s, and it not serious. And the thing 
to do was to get away and regain the protection of 
American soil. “All right,” said Mr. Hampton, 
when this had been agreed on. “Jack, you’ve got 


178 


THE RADIO BOYS 


long legs. Run around and get our taxi and bring 
it here.” 

Jack started away obediently, but was halted by 
a dismayed cry from Bob: “My flivver. My stolen 
flivver.” 

“Leave it where it is,” said Mr. Hampton, 
quickly. “I noticed it bore an American license. 
When we get back to Laredo, I’ll find out the 
owner, and buy him a new car. If you undertake 
to run it back across the Border, you’ll be halted. 
And then a lot of useless explanations will have to 
be made. And dangerous ones, too. As for the 
owner,” he added, with a smile, “I’m sure he’ll not 
object to getting a new car for his old one.” 

“I’ll say not,” said Bob, fervently, thinking of the 
jouncing he had received. It was a sentiment in 
which Captain Cornell heartily joined. 

Bob left with Jack, in order to thank young Juan 
Salazar, who had been of such great help, and to 
bind him to secrecy. During their absence a hur¬ 
ried search was made of the house. There was little 
furniture, only a great number of pallets scattered 
through all the rooms, both upstairs and down. 
There were no cabinets in which to look for papers, 
which might offer some clew to the mystery of what 
was Ramirez’s occupation. And over all there hung 
a perceptible odor at which the searchers sniffed 
now and again, puzzled. It was elusive yet pun- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL m 

gent, and its origin could not be traced. But finally 
Captain Murray declared with a shout that he “had 
it.” 

The others ran up to find him standing in the 
middle of the floor of an upstairs room, a number 
of dirty pallets with their filthy blankets about his 
feet. 

“I think I know what Ramirez is up to now,” he 
declared, in answer to inquiries. “Sniff, you fel¬ 
lows. Can't you tell what’s in the air? It’s the 
reek of Orientals. Ramirez is smuggling again. 
But this time he’s smuggling bigger game than 
usual.” 

“What do you mean? Opium?” asked young 
Harincourt. 

“Opium? No.” Captain Cornell was scornful. 

“Well, but you said this smell is Oriental. And 
I notice it, too, now that you call attention to it.” 

“It’s Oriental, all right. But, look around you. 
See all these pallets. Fellows, this is a receiving 
station for human contraband. Either Chinamen 
or Japanese are bedded here until Ramirez can de¬ 
liver them across the Border in defiance of our im¬ 
migration laws. By George,” he added, drawing a 
long breath, “that’s it. I had a suspicion of it 
earlier. The racket we’ve been through rather scat¬ 
tered my wits. But now that I use the old head 


180 


THE RADIO BOYS 


and put two and two together, I get the answer all 
right.” 

The other nodded. Only Mr. Hampton seemed 
uncertain. 

“I don’t know, Captain,” he said. “That leaves 
so much to be explained. Why should Ramirez have 
drawn Don Ferdinand’s workers from the mine? 
How did he happen to lure away my cook, Ramon? 
Don Ferdinand suspected Ramirez of working up 
a revolutionary movement, you know. That’s why 
he followed Ramirez here clear from his distant 
estate.” 

“That’s all true enough,” said Captain Cornell. 
“But I believe when your friend Don Ferdinand 
turns up, you’ll find out that I’m right. However, 
the cars are outside. Let’s get back to Laredo as 
quickly as the law will allow us. The bull fight will 
soon be over, and if we can get across the Bridge 
before the crowd hits it, we’ll be better off.” 

“I suppose there’s nothing else to do now,” said 
Mr. Hampton, reluctantly joining the procession 
descending the stairs. “But I’m worried about Don 
Ferdinand. I didn’t think so much of his failure 
to keep his appointment with us at the Hamilton 
Hotel. But when you discover that Ramirez had 
Don Ferdinand’s car, that puts a different com¬ 
plexion on the matter. He must be in captivity 
somewhere.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


181 


“Say, Mr. Hampton,” said Frank, who was just 
ahead of him, and who halted abruptly, “what fools 
we are. Has anybody thought to look on the 
roof ?” 

Mr. Hampton and Captain Cornell looked blank. 
Then sheepish smiles of comprehension dawned. 
Each shook his head. 

“Well, ,, said Frank, turning and pressing past 
Mr. Hampton, up the stairs. “This is the only 
two-story building in the neighborhood, and that 
means no other building overlooks the roof. It’s 
just barely possible that we may find something of 
interest up there. I’m going to see.” 

“And I’ll go with you,” said Captain Cornell. 
“Mr. Hampton, will you please explain to the 
others who I see have gone on. Tell them we’ll re¬ 
join you shortly.” 

“Maybe there are some men hiding up there,” Mr. 
Hampton said anxiously. “Be careful.” 

“Oh, we’ll be careful, all right,” said Captain 
Murray. “They won’t take us off guard a second 
time.” 

“Well, I don’t like it,” said Mr. Hampton. “If 
there were only some way of getting a look at that 
roof without risk—” 

But the others had re-ascended the stairs and 
were out of earshot. 


182 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XX. 

DON FERDINAND EXPLAINS 

The trap door was on a slide, not hinged. This 
permitted of its being pushed back in grooves that 
proved to be well-oiled and noiseless. Frank who 
stood on a stool so high that he was forced to bow 
his head in order not to strike it against the low 
roof was about to straighten up and look out, when 
Captain Cornell thrust him aside. The next mo¬ 
ment the doughty flyer, placing his hands on the 
edge of the opening, pulled himself up to the room. 
Frank was quick to follow. 

“Hey, Captain, that was mean, ,, he declared. 

“Didn’t want you poking into trouble,” explained 
the other. “Feel that I owe it to Mr. Hampton. 
But our trouble’s for nothing,” he added, looking 
about, “unless—” 

He ceased abruptly and leaped forward, Frank 
at his heels. Both had seen that shapeless bundle, 
looking like an old roll of carpet, begin to quiver. 
The roof was flat, a low parapet rimming it. In 
one corner lay the bundle, and the westering sun 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


183 


in their eyes had so dazzled them at first that they 
had not seen it. But now— 

They pulled up together beside the strange ob¬ 
ject, and Captain Cornell stirred it with a foot. 
“Come out,” he commanded in Spanish, “and have 
a care. I am armed.” 

The faded carpet covering what they now could 
see was a man out-stretched his full length, quiv¬ 
ered. But no man emerged. 

‘Til cover him, Frank,” said Captain Cornell. 
“Do you take off the carpet.” 

Frank seized an end of the carpet and tugged. 
But the carpet did not come away. Instead, the 
object beneath began to roll toward him. A man 
was rolled up inside. Once, twice, he turned over. 
Then the end of the carpet was reached, and the 
man lay exposed. 

“By the ring-tailed caterpillar,” cried Frank, 
using his wildest expletive. It’s Don Ferdinand.” 
And he flung himself on his knees, and began 
fumbling at the knotted rope wound 'round and 
'round the form of his old acquaintance, who was 
trussed from head to heel. “Lend a hand, Captain. 
Or, wait, I’ll cut those ropes.” And he fished for 
his pocket knife, and getting it out, opened and 
began to slash the bonds. A moment later he de¬ 
sisted in order to pull away the huge bandanna 
knotted about the aristocratic Don Ferdinand's jaw 


184 


THE RADIO BOYS 


and efficiently stopping speech. The moment the 
gag was withdrawn, the old Don began to sputter. 

“Hey, Captain,” Frank cried excitedly, “run to 
the edge of the roof and call out to the fellows.” 

And as Captain Cornell hastened away to com¬ 
ply, Frank finished the task of releasing the Don 
and then assisted him to his feet. Don Ferdinand 
was so stiff from his bonds as to be unable to stand 
without assistance. But his tongue wasn’t stiff. 
It rattled on at a great rate. Frank, whose Spanish 
was somewhat rusty from disuse, had difficulty in 
understanding, so voluble was the Don’s speech. 
He knew, however, that his old friend was pouring 
vials of wrath on the head of the missing Ramirez; 
and he was tempted to smile, but by an effort man¬ 
aged to refrain. 

In the mean time, he assisted Don Ferdinand to 
the open trap door, impressing on him that Ramirez 
had fled and that friends waited below. They were 
joined by Captain Cornell, who helped Frank lower 
the older man to the stool below. Thereupon the two 
followed, pulling the trap shut behind them. Cap¬ 
tain Cornell urged haste. 

“Let’s get out of this and get back to our own 
land,” he said. “We’ve rescued Don Ferdinand, 
thanks to you Frank. It would be a shame to get 
into trouble with the authorities now.” 

Frank agreed, and with a hand under Don Ferd- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


185 


inand’s elbow hurried the frothing old aristocrat 
down the stairs. Not once did the latter cease his 
wrathy outpourings until they emerged on the 
street, where Mr. Hampton was first to greet them. 
But Captain Cornell interrupted the conversation 
between these two old friends before it could get 
well launched. He was impatient to be gone. 

“We’ve had a lot of luck,” he said, “but it may 
not last. I don’t know what is the standing of this 
fellow Ramirez with the Mexican authorities. He 
may own the town, for all I know. Anyway, it would 
be a shame for us American officers to get into 
trouble over here now. Let’s go.” 

They went. Somehow or other, the party which 
had come in the big car of the flyers and the Laredo 
taxicab, augmented now by the addition of Bob and 
Captain Cornell and Don Ferdinand, managed to 
swarm into the constricted space. It was a wild 
race for the Bridge, and so jounced about was 
everybody that ordered conversation was im¬ 
possible. 

“Pull up at the Hamilton, everybody,” Mr. 
Hampton had said, on starting. “Then we can 
have a council of war and hear Don Ferdinand’s 
story.” 

So, although the car containing the flyers, drew 
rapidly ahead, those in the taxi felt assured that 
they would all be reunited, provided they managed 


186 


THE RADIO BOYS 


to cross the International Bridge without running 
foul of the Mexican authorities. This they did, 
just ahead of the procession of cars coming from 
the bull fight. And in the lobby of the Hamilton, 
Don Ferdinand and his escorts found the men of 
the Border Patrol awaiting them. 

“Whew,” said Captain Murray, as they trooped 
into Mr. Hampton’s sitting room, to the amazement 
of Mr. Temple who had spent the afternoon in a 
quiet siesta which their coming rudely routed; 
“that was a risky piece of business. We had no 
business invading Mexico, and if we had been 
caught at it by the authorities of Nueva Laredo we 
would have had to do some tall explaining. Glad it’s 
over—and without exposure.” 

“I’ll not forget, old man,” said Captain Cornell. 

“Rot.” Murray playfully pulled the other’s hat 
down over his eyes. “You’d do as much for any 
of us.” 

Around the big room they all found seats, the 
seven young aviators of the Border Patrol, the 
Hamptons, the Temples and Frank, many sitting 
on the floor. Don Ferdinand was given the seat 
of honor, a huge winged arm chair. Perhaps, he 
would prefer to rest after his trying experiences 
rather than to talk, suggested Mr. Hampton; in 
which case they would permit him to retire, and he 
could relate his story later. But the old aristocrat 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


187 


waved that suggestion aside impatiently. He was 
filled with anger and eager to talk. Perhaps, too, 
added Mr. Hampton, he was hungry and would 
like to eat. But to that, too, the old Don said, no. 
Mr. Hampton did, however, ring for bottled gin¬ 
ger ale which when it arrived everybody eagerly 
seized. 

Then with bottles in hand, they listened while 
Don Ferdinand explained how he had come to be 
in the predicament from which Frank and Captain 
Cornell had rescued him. 

To begin with, Ramirez, as they already knew, 
had lured away a score of men from Don Ferd¬ 
inand’s mine in the mountains, many miles to the 
west. The old Don feared Ramirez was preparing 
to gather a rebel army and launch a new rebellion. 
At one time, nothing would have pleased Don 
Ferdinand better. But he believed now that the 
Obregon government was stabilizing his country, 
and he wanted its peace to continue undisturbed. 

In that isolated district, there was only a shadow 
of Federal authority, in the form of a commander 
and a score of troops in a small town garrison at 
the village of San Dimas. Don Ferdinand decided 
that it would be useless to appeal to such help, for 
in the meantime Ramirez would move eastward un¬ 
hampered and continually gathering more troops. 


188 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Accordingly, with his own followers at his back, he 
set out in pursuit. 

Well mounted though they were, however, Don 
Ferdinand’s command failed to catch up with Ra¬ 
mirez. Through sparsely settled country, where 
the only human inhabitants were a few lonely 
sheepherders, led the chase. Now and then Don 
Ferdinand obtained word of Ramirez’s passing. 
Once, about fifty miles west of Nueva Laredo, they 
came upon a camp which Ramirez had made along 
the Rio Grande that was only a day old. The 
American town of Carana, a Texan village in¬ 
habited by Mexicans, was not far distant across the 
river. Then they pressed on toward Nueva Laredo, 
hopeful of meeting Ramirez before he could gain 
sufficient strength to attack the town. 

But almost at once Don Ferdinand discovered 
that Ramirez no longer had with him the main 
body of his followers. Trail signs up to the last 
camp had indicated that more than a score of men 
rode with Ramirez. Now the signs showed that 
not more than four horsemen had proceeded from the 
last camp. They turned back at once in order to 
make a closer inspection of the camping place, and 
soon discovered that the score left behind had 
crossed the river in the direction of Carana, some 
three miles away. 

This puzzled the old Don sadly. A dozen con- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


189 


jectures as to the reason for such a move whirled 
through his brain. The one most likely to be true, 
he believed, was that Ramirez had sent his main body 
along the deserted Texan shore toward Nueva 
Laredo while he and a few lieutenants approached 
it from the Mexican side. Many Mexicans live in 
Texas; and, therefore, the followers of Ramirez 
would be able to enter Laredo without detection 
and stay in the American town until they received 
word from their commander to enter Mexico. In 
the mean time, Ramirez could be preparing his 
plans in Nueva Laredo for a surprise attack that 
would put the town in his power. So Don Ferd¬ 
inand pressed eagerly toward Nueva Laredo. He 
felt that this move would make the capture of Ra¬ 
mirez all the easier, and that with the brains of the 
revolution laid by the heels, there would be no 
revolution. 

Five miles from Nueva Laredo, Don Ferdinand 
left his followers at the hacienda of a friend. Only 
one man did he take with him, whose duty it would 
be to act as messenger and summon the troop in 
case of need. He entered Nueva Laredo the next 
day and spent hours in making guarded inquiries. 

No information. At least, none of value. Don 
Ferdinand had acquaintances in Nueva Laredo. 
His land-owning friend had others to whom he 
bore references. All knew of Ramirez and his 


190 


THE RADIO BOYS 


former reputation as a smuggler and bad charac¬ 
ter. None, however, had heard of any revolution¬ 
ary movement with him behind it, and only one had 
heard of his being in Nueva Laredo. He had been 
seen on the street, somebody had dropped mention 
of it to this informant. 

Don Ferdinand pressed his inquiries further. 
Believing Ramirez’s command had crossed the Rio 
Grande fifty miles west in order to march into 
Laredo and there await word from their com¬ 
mander, he went to Laredo. A very good friend, 
a wealthy merchant, housed him. But inquiries 
made amid the lower strata of Laredo society by 
the merchant’s employees brought forth no informa¬ 
tion regarding an influx of strangers who might 
be Ramirez’s men. Then, driving across the Inter¬ 
national Bridge, Saturday night, Don Ferdinand 
in his friend’s car caught sight of Ramirez, only to 
lose the chase, as already narrated, through his 
accidental smashing into the taxi of his young 
friends. 

The next day was the morning of the bull fight 
Remembering his promise to call at the Hamilton 
Hotel Don Ferdinand was preparing for the visit 
when word was brought him that Ramirez had been 
located in a house on Calle Libertad. The in¬ 
formant was one of his merchant-friend’s employ¬ 
ees—a laborer from the warehouse. He undertook 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 191 ! 

to guide Don Ferdinand to a dive in Nueva Laredo, 
where they were to meet one of Ramirez’s men who 
had agreed to sell his information, if Don Ferd¬ 
inand would buy. The merchant was asleep. Don 
Ferdinand did not wake him, but took the car 
which had been placed at his disposal and drove 
with his informant to the meeting place. 

“It was a trick,” he explained. “Barely had I 
entered the dive than I was seized from behind, 
gagged and then taken in my friend’s car to the 
house in Calle Libertad.” 

“And Ramirez?” questioned Mr. Hampton. 

“At the house he met me. Our conversation I 
shall not repeat. It would only bore you. But, 
Senor Hampton, my good friend, I must tell you I 
was mistaken. This devil Ramirez, he think he have 
me in his power and can tell me all. Ah, he does 
not realize I have good friends who will come to my 
rescue. What do you think, Senor? He says he 
does not make the revolution; there is no money in 
that. Instead, he organized a—what shall I call 
it?—system of men for smuggling Orientals out of 
Mexico into the Estados Unidos.” 

“An underground railway?” suggested Captain 
Cornell. 

Don Ferdinand nodded. 

“I was surprise’—me. He think, this devil 
Ramirez, it is I, Don Ferdinand, who want a share 


192 


THE RADIO BOYS 


in this traffic which is so profitable. He think it is 
because of that desire for money that I pursue him. 
So now he capture me.” 

Don Ferdinand’s listeners betrayed the keenest 
interest. Captain Cornell was especially eager for 
details. His suspicions regarding Ramirez and the 
latter’s projects were fulfilled. He wanted to know 
all. Questions poured upon Don Ferdinand in a 
flood, completely overwhelming him. At length he 
waved his hands impatiently. 

“Senors, have a patience. There is little more to 
tell. This devil, Ramirez, he reveal that he take my 
man from the mine because he need men for his— 
what you call?—oh, yes, his underground railway. 
When he send them across Rio Grande, it is that they 
go to Carana and prepare. From Carana, these 
Orientals shall be sent to San Antonio and then dis¬ 
tributed through Estados Unidos.” 

“But didn’t he have other men?” asked Mr. 
Hampton. “Why should he go west to your mine, 
and take your men? Why should he take my cook 
Ramon?” 

“About thees Ramon, I do not know. But 
Ramirez, he take my men because he know I shall 
pursue. Me, he have a grudge against this long 
time.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


193 


CHAPTER XXI. 
on ramirez's trail. 

Jack had been listening but at the same time his 
thoughts had been busy with conjectures. To him, 
it did not seem likely that Ramirez had laid his plans 
solely in order that he might lure Don Ferdinand 
into his power. Some other motive there must be. 
And his thoughts leaped to Rafaela. With the 
departure of her father and the major portion of 
his men, she would be left with but slim protection 
in her mountain fastness. Was it possible that 
Ramirez had deliberately planned affairs so that she 
should be left defenceless? He could not understand 
why this supposition occurred to him, not realizing 
that Rafaela was in the background of all his 
thoughts of late to a greater extent than he ap¬ 
preciated; but occur it did. And now he remem¬ 
bered, too, that when leaving home to fly to Laredo, 
he had been unable to gain a response to his radio 
calls to Rafaela. 

Was it possible that already evil had befallen her? 
A sudden fear clutched at his heart. The others 


194 


THE RADIO BOYS 


were talking among themselves, excitedly. Snatches 
of their conversation informed Jack that the aviators 
of the Border Patrol were discussing this turn of 
events and what it would mean for them, inasmuch 
as it placed in their possession the clew to a traffic 
in human contraband which would have to be broken 
up. Don Ferdinand for the moment no longer oc¬ 
cupied the center of attention, and Jack, noting this, 
slipped around behind his chair and leaning over the 
back of the chair, addressed him in a low voice. 

The old man listened a moment and then looked 
up startled, while over his features came an ex¬ 
pression of alarm. He half started out of his chair. 

“Jack, I am the fool,” he said. “That devil 
Ramirez, he have seen my daughter two-three 
month ago at the fiesta and have try to kees her. My 
men, they have beat him. He nurses revenge. It 
is for that revenge I think he try to get me in his 
power. But, no, it is that he may carry off my 
daughter while I am away. Fool, fool,” he cried, 
and struck his head with his clenched fist. Then 
his eyes brightened. 

“But, no, Jack. If he want to carry off my daugh¬ 
ter, why is he here ?” 

“I thought of that, too,” replied Jack. “But may¬ 
be he is trying to combine business with pleasure. 
While he conducts his smuggling operations, and 
lures you out of the way in pursuit of him, some 


.WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


195 


lieutenant may be swooping down and carrying 
Rafaela away.” 

Don Ferdinand frowned, twisting his mustaches 
ferociously. “He is a devil. He is smart as Satan 
himself. Perhaps, it is that you are right, Jack.” 

Jack persisted. “Look here, Don Ferdinand. 
This fellow Ramirez had a band with him before he 
took your men away from the mine, didn’t he? Well, 
if he took a score from you, and that’s about all he 
brought this way with him, he must have left others 
behind in the mountains. He—” 

“Enough, Jack. You are right.” Don Ferdinand 
leaped to his feet. “Fool, fool,” he cried again, once 
more striking his head. 

At this gesture and outburst the others gained 
their feet and gathered around the pair, demanding 
to know what was the matter. As briefly as he could, 
Jack explained. In conclusion he added that so far 
as he could see, the first thing to do was to get into 
communication with Don Ferdinand’s ranch. Radio 
was the only means. Therefore, he would have to 
go at once to the flying field in order to call the ranch 
station. 

The big fellow was dismayed. His handsome 
features were flushed. And his father, knowing 
more than the others of how Jack’s affections were 
involved, moved to his side and threw an arm across 
his shoulders. 


196 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Easy, son,” he said. “If Ramirez intended to 
carry off Rafaela, he would have boasted of it to 
Don Ferdinand when he had our friend in his 
power.” 

“Maybe so, Dad,” said Jack. “On the other hand, 
Ramirez might have been saving up that choice bit 
of information for a denouement. Anyhow, I 
think the best thing to do is to try and get in touch 
with Rafaela at once.” 

“If you can’t get an answer, Jack,” Frank sug¬ 
gested, “suppose we fly out there in your plane.” 

At that Captain Cornell shook his head. “It’ll be 
dark in another two hours,” he said. “And you 
couldn’t get started under an hour from now. The 
flight would take three hours. It would be folly to 
make the trip in your plane, Jack. You may know 
all that country well, but landing at night is a very 
different matter from making a daylight landing. If 
you were forced down, hm!” He shrugged his 
shoulders and spread out his hands in an eloquent 
gesture. 

“There’s a landing field at Don Ferdinand’s,” 
Jack expostulated. “And nothing would go wrong 
that would force me down between here and there.” 

“You never can tell,” said Captain Cornell. “Be¬ 
sides,” he added, turning to the others, “we have 
something else to think about. Don Ferdinand,” he 
added, addressing the latter directly, “you were in 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


197 


that house longer than I. Besides, Ramirez boasted 
to you of what he was planning to do. Now I saw 
numerous pallets there, indicating that a good many 
Orientals had slept there only recently. Did 
Ramirez reveal what had become of them and when 
he intended to try to smuggle them over the Border ?” 

“They were taken out of Nueva Laredo last 
night,” said Don Ferdinand. “That much, he tell 
me. One was stabbed in a fight, but could walk. 
They are walking toward Carana.” 

“Not on horseback?” 

“No. And he say, this devil Ramirez, that he will 
put them across the Rio Grande tonight,” Don 
Ferdinand added. 

“Boys,” said Captain Cornell, decisively. “That 
means work for us.” 

The members of the Border Patrol nodded, their 
eyes bright. All but Captain»Murray. “But Ramirez 
knows we’ll be on his trail,” he objected. “He 
knows we’re in it. Otherwise, Cornell, why did he 
capture you ?” 

“Huh. He was in that crowd in Nueva Laredo 
last night, when Don Ferdinand and the boys and I 
got together. Saw me stop Don Ferdinand and 
bring him back. Then he turned around and mixed 
in with the crowd. So he knew Don Ferdinand and 
I were acquainted. When he saw me examining his 
auto, out there in front of his house, or rather, Don 


198 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Ferdinand’s stolen auto, he socked me. But—he 
doesn’t know I’m an aviator, or that you fellows 
who came to my rescue are aviators. I guess he’s 
still trying to figure out how you came to the rescue .’ 7 

Captain Murray’s brow cleared. “Good. Then 
he doesn’t know that the Border Patrol is on his 
trail. What a sweet surprise we’ll spring on him at 
Carana. We’ll take your ship and mine. I’ll tele¬ 
phone the field to warm ’em up—and they’ll be ready 
when we arrive.” 

He turned to the room telephone. Jack halted 
him. “Tell them to warm my ship up, too, Captain, 
please,” he begged. “If I can’t get Don Ferdinand’s 
daughter by radio, I’ll have to fly over there.” 

“One hundred and fifty miles,” interrupted Cap¬ 
tain Cornell. “And dark in little more than an hour 
from now. You can’t do it, Jack. Night-flying is 
nothing for an inexperienced man to undertake.” 

“We’ll see,” said Jack. “Anyway, you have my 
ship warmed up for me, please, Captain Murray.” 

Leaving the room abruptly, with the remark that 
he would return in a short time, Jack went toward 
his own room on the same floor. A gabble of voices 
floated upstairs from the lobby, where the bull fight 
of the afternoon was under discussion. Frank and 
Bob, true comrades, followed him. 

“What you going to do, Jack?” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


199 


“Get a sweater and helmet.” Jack’s lips set in a 
grim line. 

“If you go, we’re going with you.” 

“We’ll talk about that later. Thanks, though, 
fellows.” 

As they returned, the aviators were emerging into 
the hall. With them were Mr. Hampton, Mr. 
Temple and Don Ferdinand, all wearing anxious 
faces. 

“Here he is,” cried Captain Cornell. “Listen, 
Jack. We’ve decided what to do.” 

The two groups faced each other. 

“It wouldn’t do, Jack, it wouldn’t do at all, for 
you to fly in your boat to Don Ferdinand’s. Your 
boat is all right, I know, a peach of a little craft. 
But it isn’t equipped with a searchlight, and it’s too 
frail to be trusted in a forced night landing. Besides, 
you haven’t any experience in night-flying. So if 
it seems necessary to make a flight to Don Fer¬ 
dinand’s, you and I’ll go in a De Haviland.” 

Jack’s face which had been growing more and 
more set in a grim look of determination, lightened 
materially. “Oh, say, Captain, that’ll be fine,” he 
said. “You’re a white man.” And he gripped the 
other’s hand. 

“Hm!” Captain Cornell grunted. “Come on, 
we’re all going out to the field. The fellows have 


200 


THE RADIO BOYS 


their car at the door, and we’ve ordered a couple of 
taxis.” 

In the hotel lobby, the group attracted considerable 
attention from the various groups of old-timers and 
tourists scattered about. Jack Hanna ford, the old 
ex-Ranger, huge, grizzled, mustached, strode up to 
Captain Cornell. 

“Howdy,” he cried. Then in a lower voice, he 
added: “Looks like trouble for somebody, when 
doggone near the whole Laredo flight of the Border 
Patrol puts its heads together. Got something you 
can let me in on?” 

The others were going on. Captain Cornell was 
tempted to tell Hannaford of the expedition that 
was afoot. He liked the old Ranger. No harm 
could be done by it. On the other hand, nothing 
was to be gained. And his companions were wait¬ 
ing for him. 

“Yes, a little expedition up the river, Hannaford,” 
he said. “Pm in a hurry. Excuse me now, and IT1 
tell you about it later.” 

Hannaford stepped closer and dropped his voice 
still lower. “Is it about Ramirez ?” he asked. “You 
was asking ’bout him yestiddy, you know.” 

“Ramirez?” gasped Captain Cornell. “Yes, Han¬ 
naford, it is. What do you know about him?” 

“Nothing much,” said Hannaford, in a deceptive¬ 
ly indifferent voice. “Only I know where he is.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


201 


“You know where he is.” 

“Uh. Doc Garfield jist telephoned me, right here 
in the lobby, that he got Ramirez in his office. The 
duck come in with a bullet through his arm. Broken. 
Wanted it set.” 

“Hampton’s bullet did that. Doc Garfield? 
Where? Here in Laredo?” 

“Uh-huh. Down near the Bridge.” 

“Great guns.” The excited Captain Cornell stared 
incredulously at his informant. “Why’d this doctor 
call you ?” 

“Good friend o’ mine. Knows I got a grudge to 
settle with Ramirez. Wanted to know if there was 
any warrant out for him. Doc Garfield, he’s an 
old-timer. Knows these Border ruffians, most of 
’em, by sight, anyways.” 

“And you told him—” 

“Tol’ him? What could I tell him? Tol’ him they 
was no warrants out that I knew of. But I was on 
my way to light out for Garfield’s when I see you 
come inta the lobby. Jist hung up the ’phone.” 

“Hannaford, listen. No, wait a minute. My 
friends must hear of this. Oh, shucks, come with 
me. That’s the best way.” 

Captain Cornell seized the old ex-Ranger by an 
arm and half-urged, half-drew him out of the lobby 
to the street. 


202 


THE RADIO BOYS 


CHAPTER XXII. 

TO THE RESCUE. 

Two taxicabs and the big touring car from the 
aviation field, his friends in them and anxious to 
go, stood at the curb as Captain Cornell with 
Hannaford beside him, came down the steps. 

“Snap into it, Cornell,” called Captain Murray, 
impatiently. “Get into one of the taxis. We’re 
loaded.” 

He stepped on the starter and the big car began 
to roar. Captain Cornell cleared the sidewalk in 
one jump, and landed on the running board. 
“Stop your engine. I’ve got news.” 

“News?” 

“You bet.” The excited Captain Cornell turned 
toward the two taxis and waved their occupants to 
approach. The three boys who were in the nearer 
taxi were by his side in a moment, for they sensed 
from his manner that he had something important 
to divulge. The three older men who were in the 
farther taxi were slower to approach. Yet they, 
too, hurried their pace on noting Captain Cornell’s 
air of suppressed excitement. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


203 


“Fellows,” he said, low-voiced, as the tense 
group gathered around him and Hannaford, “I 
know where Ramirez is. And we’re going for him 
right away.” 

Quickly he explained what Hannaford had just 
revealed to him. 

“And don’t worry none about bein’ legal,” said 
Hannaford. “I’m a deputy sheriff, and bein’ as 
how you got somethin’ on Ramirez which makes 
it all right for us to go after him, I’ll swear you all 
in as members o’ my posse.” 

“All right, Hannaford, step on it,” said Captain 
Murray. “Climb in with us, and show us the 
way.” 

Hannaford was bundled into the foremost car, 
Captain Cornell joined the boys in the first taxi, 
and both cars got off to an almost equal start. 
That bearing Mr. Hampton and Mr. Temple and 
Don Ferdinand was slower in getting under way, 
but kept the others in sight. 

“This shoulder of mine has felt better in its 
time,” grunted Mr. Hampton to his companions. 
“I planned to wait until we got to the flying field, 
where I could have the flight surgeon examine and 
treat it, and wouldn’t have to make embarrassing 
explanations. But, maybe, this Doctor Garfield can 
fix me up.'” 

Several minutes later found the three cars drawn 


204 


THE RADIO BOYS 


up together on a deserted side street near the 
International Bridge. Hannaford had called a 
halt. Doctor Garfield’s home and office lay in the 
next block, and the old ex-Ranger felt it was neces¬ 
sary to prepare a plan of campaign before going 
farther. 

“Doc Garfield was in a hurry when he phoned,” 
said Hannaford. “I know where his phone is—in 
a little room separated from his office. He was 
speaking low and hurried, while Ramirez waited. 
Doc couldn’t tell me much, only that Ramirez come 
in a car which he left standing at the curb, and he 
thinks there’s a woman in the car and a couple or 
three men.” 

“This doctor, his office it is in the next block?” 
asked Don Ferdinand. Jack Hannaford nodded. 
“It grows dusk,” said the old Don, “but,” he added,, 
in a tone of conviction, “but I am certain that ees 
my friend’s car I see.” He pointed. 

Twilight had come. Purple dusk lay over the 
quiet street. Graceful pepper trees lining the curb¬ 
ing enhanced the shadows beneath them. Yet it 
was not so dark but what those who had seen it 
before felt pretty certain that the car parked at the 
opposite curb in the next block was that borrowed 
from his friend by Don Ferdinand and stolen from 
the latter by Ramirez. The shadows were growing 
deeper, yet the lines of the car and the occasional 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


205 


•glimmer of polished trimmings could not be mis¬ 
taken. Hannaford gave confirmation. 

“That’s where Doc Garfield’s house is.” 

“Look here,” said Jack, taking the initiative. 
“We’ve got the advantage of surprise. They won’t 
be expecting us. Let’s dash up beside them, and 
demand their surrender. We’ll be on them before 
they can know what is happening. Mr. Hannaford, 
who knows the house, can lead a' group inside in a 
dash that ought to bag Ramirez without trouble, 
especially as he’s got a busted arm.” 

Nobody could suggest any better plan. 

“Furthermore,” said Jack, addressing the 
aviators, “the car you fellows are driving better fall 
to the rear. Ramirez’s men have seen it.” 

Arrangements were quickly made, a number of 
aviators transferring to the taxi previously 
occupied by the older men, while Captain Cornell 
took his place in that occupied by the three boys. 
One was to range up alongside the stolen car, the 
other to draw up behind it, whereupon its occupants 
could pile out and take the gangsters on the other 
side. As for Hannaford and his group, who were 
to enter the house, they were to go up a side street 
and approach from the rear. 

“Ramirez may see what’s going on out front, and 
take to his heels out the back door,” said Hanna¬ 
ford. “If he does, we’ll bag him.” 


206 


THE RADIO BOYS 


This arrangement was satisfactory to everybody 
except the three older men. Mr. Hampton was re¬ 
gretful because his wounded shoulder would keep 
him out of action. Mr. Temple was plainly nervous 
and disinclined to have the boys running into dan¬ 
ger. And Don Ferdinand bounced up and down, 
demanding a revolver, so that he could take a hand 
in the fray. But there was none to spare, and he 
and his two companions were to stay in the aviators* 
car. As for the drivers of the two rented taxis, 
they were not without experience in affrays of one 
sort and another in this tempestuous community, 
and their fares were sufficient guarantee that they 
would be compensated for any damages sustained. 
Moreover, they knew Jack Hannaford, whose word 
with them was law. 

“Let’s go,” said Captain Cornell, impatiently. 

The discussion of details, quickly though the 
latter had been arranged, had consumed several 
minutes. Dusk was deepening. Jumping into the 
leading taxi, Captain Cornell seated himself beside 
the driver, a position‘which fortunately would put 
him next to the car ahead. The boys were in the 
rear compartment, Jack crouching by the door and 
ready to throw it open and leap out at the crucial 
moment. 

In such tense moments, it is emotion, not reason, 
which sways one. Certainly, Jack was in the grip 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


207 


of strong emotion. Certainly, the others were, too, 
as they bore down upon the car ahead. But how 
different in every case! Jack was filled with rage 
■bordering upon despair as he thought of the pos¬ 
sibility that Rafaela might have come to harm 
through the machinations of Ramirez. His whole 
idea was to lay hands on Ramirez at the earliest 
possible moment and to choke the truth out of him, 
to force him to confess where he had hidden 
Rafaela, if he or his lieutenants had stolen her from 
her home during her father’s absence. To none of 
the others, except Rafaela’s father, no, not even to 
Jack’s two comrades, did the affair appear in the 
same light as to him. They likewise were stirred 
by emotions, but only such as are incident to men 
hunting a criminal, in whose evil-doing their own 
personal fortunes or the fortunes of dear ones are 
not involved. 

Only a very brief space of time was required to 
cover the ground intervening between the last halt¬ 
ing place and the field of action, and, before the two 
taxis closed on the car ahead, the big car from the 
aviation field, under command of Jack Hannaford, 
swung into the intervening cross street. Mr. 
Hampton, who was among its occupants, shook his 
head as he lost sight of his son. He knew, if no¬ 
body else did, how Jack was shaken emotionally. 

Hannaford pointed and, at his accompanying 


20S 


THE RADIO BOYS 


word of command, the young aviator at the wheel 
swung the car to the curb. Then the grizzled old 
Texan and the aviator—it was young Haricourt^ 
who had been detailed to this task—leaped out 
Quickly he outlined his plan. 

They were at the mouth of an alley running along 
the rear of Doctor Garfield’s house. Hannaford 
and young Harincourt would enter the house from 
the rear. Mr. Hampton, Mr. Temple and Don 
Ferdinand were to keep guard at the alley’s mouth. 
If Ramirez escaped Hannaford and came down the 
alley, it would be their job to pot him. Don Ferd¬ 
inand, raging, protested. He wanted to be in the 
forefront. 

“Two’s enough,” said Hannaford brusquely. 
‘‘More would git in their own way. You stay here. 
Come on, lad.” 

And with Harincourt at his heels, the old ex- 
Ranger darted up the deserted narrow alley, in 
which the shadows were deepening at the near ap¬ 
proach of night, as briskly as a boy. 

Mr. Hampton shook his head in admiration, a 
little smile on his lips. 

“A tough breed,” he commented. 

In the meantime, up the shadowy street in front 
of the house, with its air of Sabbath calm, sped the 
two taxis, while peal on peal of bells from the 
tower of a nearby church floated down on the still 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 209 

air. What irony, thought Jack, church bells and 
he and his comrades speeding on such a mission! 
Yet their mission was of the best, he comforted 
himself. 

And then all thought except of the matter in 
hand fled, crouching against the door, ready to fling 
it open and spring out, his eyes, just tipping the rim 
of the panelled glass, beheld the other car at the 
curb, ahead, abreast. Now, now. As the brakes 
squeaked, and the taxi ground to a stop so suddenly 
as to fling all its occupants about, Jack thrust the 
door outward and sprang upon the running board 
of the other car, pistol in hand. Beside him was 
Captain Cornell, leaping down from the driver’s 
side, and at his back Bob and Frank, crowding 
close. 

But what was this revealed in the depths of that 
other car? What, but one man struggling des¬ 
perately yet unavailingly in the grasp of another? 
And of a third man cowering in a corner, with his 
upflung arms protecting his face, while over him 
bent a fury in woman’s clothes, one hand gripped 
in his hair and the other reaching talon-like for his 
features ? 

Ramon, the Hamptons’ old cook, face distorted. 
“Senor Jack, queek or he escape. I—cannot—hold 
—heem—” 

And then Captain Cornell’s pistol butt falling on 
the head of him whom Ramon clasped, and the 


210 


THE RADIO BOYS 


other lying still and Ramon rising to his knees with 
a sob of thankfulness. 

And then, wonder of wonders, the fury faced 
about, and it was Rafaela. Rafaela, her face ap¬ 
pearing as through a mist to Jack’s unbelieving eyes. 
And quick as thought he threw an arm about her 
and drew her close, while all the fighting fury 
which had nerved her to the attack went out of her, 
and she collapsed with a little trembling cry. And 
Bob and Frank, over there, on the other side of the 
car—though how they got there was a mystery to 
Jack!—sitting on the form of the ruffian whom 
Rafaela had faced and outfaced and at their back, 
only half-seen in the growing darkness, the other 
aviators from the second taxi. 

“Is it all over? Anybody hurt? ,, the young 
aviators demanded. 

But Jack could think of nothing except that here 
was Rafaela whom he had thought far away, and 
safe in his arms, when he had feared she was in 
Ramirez’s power. Safe in his arms— 

For the first time he was aware of the broad 
grins upon the faces of his two comrades, and the 
scarcely less-pronounced smiles of his Border 
Patrol friends. He knew the reason, but he merely 
pressed Rafaela tighter in the circle of his arm. It 
was she who pulled away, with a “Thank you, 
Senor, but I can stand now.” And then—they 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


211 


were now in the street between car and taxi—the 
little witch must needs add, as if utterly surprised, 
“Oh, it is you, Jack.” And Jack, looking no more 
foolish than he felt, could only add, “Yes, it’s I. 
tWho—who did you think it was?” 

The grins became broader, someone laughed. 
Rafaela only shrugged. 

Across the embarrassment cut Captain Corners 
voice. “Tie ’em up, boys, and into the house, 
quick.” 

“Oh, but, Senor, not Ramon,” protested Rafaela, 
facing the group about the volubly expostulating 
cook. The two other captives were sullen and 
silent. “He have been of a help to me.” 

“Senor Jack,” Ramon held out supplicating 
hands. 

Jack hesitated, but the old cook’s appeal coupled 
with a glance from Rafaela decided him. “I’ll an¬ 
swer for Ramon,” he said. 

And Bob, remembering the old cook’s recalci¬ 
trance toward Ramirez outside the bull ring that 
afternoon—was it only a few short hours be¬ 
fore?—spoke up with, “He’s all right. Let’s beat 
it into the house.” 

A swirl and a whoop, a patter of running feet, 
and away dashed the others, up the walk toward 
Doctor Garfield’s house behind a wide lawn. The 
two hastily yet securely-trussed captives lay on the 


212 


THE RADIO BOYS 


sidewalk, with Ramon leering about them, lighting 
a cigarette. The taxi driver looked down interest¬ 
edly from his seat at the two young people stand¬ 
ing so close to each other between his cab and the 
other car. 

“Aw, rats,” he muttered, but grinning as he 
spoke the words. “Ain’t they the sweet young 
things.” 

Then he climbed down stiffly and walked around 
on the other side of his taxi to talk to his brother 
chauffeur in the other car. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


213 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

RAMON TALKS 

The rest can be briefly told. When the re¬ 
serves, so to speak, entered Doctor Garfield’s office, 
they found Ramirez already captive in Hannaford’s 
clutches. The Mexican had been in the act of de¬ 
parting, he was, in fact, already at the front door, 
his hand on the knob, when the old Texan from 
the rear had commanded him to surrender. 

Don Ferdinand, raging, had broken away from 
the restraint of Mr. Hampton and Mr. Temple, 
and had followed in the wake of Hannaford and 
young Harincourt. He stood, trembling with pas¬ 
sion, in front of Ramirez, as the aviators under 
Captain Cornell, and ably supported by Bob and 
Frank, appeared in the doorway of the office. 

“My daughter?” he was demanding, shaking his 
fist under Ramirez’s nose. “Where is my daugh¬ 
ter?” 

And the latter, his evil eyes gleaming from his 
swarthy face, was leering down at the smaller man. 

“Where you cannot find her,” he was saying, for 


214 


THE RADIO BOYS 


he believed that his shout of warning, emitted as 
Hannaford captured him, had been heard and 
heeded by the captors of Rafaela who were in the 
car outside. 

But the malicious triumph that shone from his 
eyes departed when his attention was drawn by the 
loud trampling of feet in the hall and he swung 
around to face newcomers in the doorway. If these 
were more Americans from the front of the house, 
it was likely that his men had been captured and 
Rafaela rescued, was the thought that followed. 
And this suspicion of the downfall of his rascality 
was confirmed when Bob stepped up to Don Ferd¬ 
inand. * 

‘‘Don’t believe him, sir,” said the big fellow. 
“Your daughter is safe outside. Jack is with her.” 

The last words fell on unheeding ears. Don 
Ferdinand went through the crowd and out the hall 
like an arrow. 

Much had been done, but something still re¬ 
mained. Ramirez and several of his lieutenants 
had been captured, and Rafaela rescued. But a 
score of Ramirez’s followers were still at large, and 
the large band of Orientals whom Ramirez was 
smuggling into the United States in defiance of the 
immigration laws would have to be rounded up be^ 
fore the Border Patrol would consider its efforts 2l 
complete success. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


215 


“You see, it’s this way,” Captain Cornell hurriedly 
explained to Jack and his comrades; “the new im¬ 
migration law which is under discussion in Cong¬ 
ress right now proposes a practically complete ban 
of Orientals. Few enough have been admitted 
heretofore, the majority being permitted to enter 
under a so-called gentlemen’s agreement, and pos¬ 
ing as students. Well, some have been students, 
but certainly not all. 

“Now,” he added, “if you are not familiar with 
what is going on, I can tell you that our govern¬ 
ment is preparing to frame a law which will make 
it impossible for Orientals to enter our country. 
There have been frequent rumors of late to the 
effect that the Orientals were leaving their crowded 
home lands and migrating to Mexico, wh^re there 
is no ban against them, in large numbers. Doubt¬ 
less, Ramirez, who has a head on his shoulders, 
even if he does use it only for rascality, and who 
keeps abreast of the times, saw his opportunity in 
this situation. He has planned an ‘underground 
railway’ for running Orientals out of Mexico and 
into the United States. There used to be a traffic 
in the same sort of human contraband on the 
Pacific Coast, until it was broken up a few years 
ago. But,” he interrupted, surprised, “why these 
knowing looks at each other?” 


216 


THE RADIO BOYS 


His listeners laughed. “You tell him, Jack,” 
said Bob. 

“Well, Captain,” said Jack, “you may not be¬ 
lieve it, but we three happened to have a hand in 
breaking up that traffic. And a sweet time we had 
of it, too, for a while. By accident, we stumbled 
on something in San Francisco which made us dan¬ 
gerous to the Smuggling Ring. They kidnapped 
us and took us to sea. But we managed to escape 
and to bring the government forces down on their 
hiding place in the Santa Barbara Channel islands. 
Fellows,” he added, addressing Bob and Frank, “do 
you remember that inventor—Professor What’s- 
his-name, and his radio finder for locating un¬ 
charted stations? That’s how we managed to find 
the hiding place, Captain, through locating their 
radio calls between a shore station and their boats.” 

“Those were the happy days,” said Bob re¬ 
miniscently, and a faraway look came into his eyes 
as his thoughts turned back to the exciting events 
narrated in The Radio Boys on Secret Service 
Duty. 

Frank nodded. “Lots of fun,” he said. 

Captain Cornell threw up his hands in mock dis¬ 
may, as he laughed. “You three must be regular 
trouble-finders,” he commented. “Do you always 
get into the thick of things like this?” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


217 


“Oh, not always,” said Jack. And Bob grum¬ 
bled : 

“Thick of things ? Huh. We aren’t in the thick 
of things this time. You fellows flying to Carana 
are going to get the cream of the whole affair.” 

The conversation had been conducted in under¬ 
tones. All four were standing on the outskirts of 
the group in Doctor Garfield’s office, which was 
brilliantly lighted while in one corner Captain 
Murray, finding he could obtain little information 
from the sullen Ramirez, was now pumping Ra¬ 
mon. Don Ferdinand had taken Rafaela to the 
home of his merchant friend, and the boys were to 
call on them on the morrow. Doctor Garfield had 
re-dressed Mr. Hampton’s wound, and the latter 
had departed for the hotel, accompanied by Mr. 
Temple, for the express purpose of trying to locate 
the owner of the flivver which Bob and Captain 
Cornell had made off with outside of the Nueva 
Laredo bull ring that afternoon, in their pursuit of 
Ramirez, and of reimbursing him. 

The other aviators were listening to Captain 
Murray’s attempt to obtain information from Ra¬ 
mon. Presently the latter turned away impatiently, 
and, his eyes lighting on Jack, he beckoned him for¬ 
ward. 

“Hampton, I can’t get anything out of your old 
cook. You try your hand.” 


218 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“Look here, Ramon,” said Jack, eyeing the old 
fellow keenly. “You’re afraid of something. You 
know you’ll not be prosecuted. You did us too 
good a turn outside for that. Now what is it? 
Tell me. Are you”—and he leaned closer, whis¬ 
pering so that only Ramon could hear—“afraid of 
what Ramirez may do if you betray any informa¬ 
tion about his plans?” 

“Si, Senor,” breathed Ramon. 

Jack in turn whispered to Captain Murray. The 
latter frowned thoughtfully for a second or two, 
then his eyes brightened, and he turned to Hanna- 
ford. The other stooped from his greater height, 
and the three put their heads together. The other 
Americans regarded them curiously. As for Ra¬ 
mirez he continued to glower while from beneath 
his lowered lids darted a poisonous glance which 
fell on Ramon and made the old fellow tremble. 

“Come on, you,” said Hannaford, at length, turn¬ 
ing to Ramirez; “we’ll just put you where you 
won’t be no trouble to anybody but yourself.” 

With a hand as big as a ham gripping the more 
slightly built Mexican, Hannaford marched him 
outside and flung him into one of the taxicabs. 

“Where to, Jack?” 

“County jail. Step on ’er.” 

Behind them, in the office, already Ramon was 
growing brighter, with Ramirez away. And now 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


219 


he no longer hesitated to answer questions, for Jack 
assured him that Ramirez would be sent to the 
Federal Penitentiary for violation of a national law, 
and that years would elapse before he would ever 
be free again. 

“Senor Jack,” said Ramon, addressing Jack in 
Spanish, “you ask yourself why Ramon abandons 
you at the ranch? Ah, you do not know, you do 
not know that devil’s power? Once I was a bandit; 
that was years ago. Then I went to the Estados 
Unidos and became respectable. Senor, when I go 
to the village that day to buy supplies for our 
ranch, two lieutenants of Ramirez encounter me. 
Aye, Senor, those same two—Andreas and Jose—* 
whom I fight and overcome in the car, myself, 
alone, single-handed, as you arrive.” 

He thumped his chest, and Jack with difficulty 
restrained a burst of laughter. From behind him, 
where the others crowded close, came a tittering 
which betrayed that others were not so heedful of 
the old man’s feelings. But Ramon paid them no 
heed. 

“Andreas and Jose tell me they have a fine job 
for me, Senor Jack, and when I decline and inform 
them I already have the fine job, they compel me 
to go with them. Of a certainty, I, Ramon, would 
have fought them then, except that they were 
armed while I had not even a knife. 


220 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“We get in the train, Senor, and we ride to 
Laredo. And then they take me to that house you 
know of, where they make me cook for thousands 
of stinking Orientals. And, Senor, Ramirez, he 
laugh at me.” 

The old man bowed his head in shame, and this 
time no laughter came from the men crowding close 
behind Jack. The latter dropped a kindly hand on 
Ramon’s bowed shoulders. 

“It’s all over now, Ramon, and he shall never get 
you in his clutches again,” Jack promised. “And 
now,” he added, at an impatient whisper from Cap¬ 
tain Murray, “tell us where the Orientals are, and 
how they are to be brought into the United States.” 

“Senor, tonight at midnight, they are to be at a 
point forty miles west, on the Rio Grande. A 
rough trail leads there, and it is wild country. At 
midnight, boats will meet them and they will be 
ferried across the river from Mexico into Texas. 
Guides will take them to Carana, where they will 
be housed until tomorrow night, when they will be 
sent on to San Antonio. There are no Americans 
at Carana, Senor, only Mexicans; and the whole 
town, which is not large, is in Ramirez’s pay or, else, 
fears him and keeps silent.” 

And once more Ramon ceased speaking, while 
his hands went patting here and there about his 
person, but without success, until one of the avi- 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 221 

ators with a smile stopped his fruitless search by 
thrusting a packet of cigarettes into his hand. The 
old man gratefully accepted one, lighted it, and sat 
back, puffing. 

Captain Murray walked to an open window and 
looked out. Then he turned back with a decisive 
set to his shoulders. 

“As calm a night as one could desire,” he said to 
his confrere, Captain Cornell. “Three hours to 
midnight. And we could reach Carana in less than 
an hour. I know the village. Nobody there to 
telephone to, nobody to put on guard. What say?” 

“You've landed there, haven’t you?” 

“Yes. In bright moonlight like this, there’s no 
chance to miss it. A little settlement where the river 
takes that big bend to the north. Several good fields 
nearby. And in this flood of moonlight, landing 
ought to be easy.” 

All were listening closely, and the atmosphere 
was tense. 

“If those Orientals once get into Texas, they’ll 
be as hard to round up as jackrabbits.” 

“Yes, and if we break up Ramirez’s gang, there’ll 
be no boats for the Orientals to cross in.” 

“Just what I was thinking. Three ships ought 
to be enough, two in each.” 

“Right. I’ll telephone the field to warm ’em up.” 
And Captain Murray turned to white-haired old 


222 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Doctor Garfield, who like the others, had been an 
interested listener, and asked him for the location 
of his telephone. The Doctor silently threw open 
a door, and switched on the light in the next room, 
and Captain Murray sat down to the phone. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


223 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

JACK SURRENDERS TO THE “ENEMY.” 

Anybody strolling into the dining room of the 
Hamilton Hotel after the dinner hour three nights 
later would have seen an amusing sight. The big 
room* was being prepared as if for another dinner, 
when, as everybody knew, the regular diners had 
all been# and departed. Nevertheless, instead of 
waiters clearing the tables and porters mopping up, 
here were the employees of the fashionable caterer 
of the town directing the waiters in assembling the 
tables down the center of the room into one long 
table, some putting on snowy linen and setting out 
silver and plate and flowers, others placing banks 
of flowers along the walls. 

Rangy old Jack Hannaford, looking vastly dif¬ 
ferent and uncomfortable in black coat and white 
collar, peered into the room and then precipitately 
withdrew. In his retreat he bumped into several 
other old-timers, likewise bent upon viewing the 
metamorphosis of the dining room, and they chaffed 
him unmercifully. 


224 


THE RADIO BOYS 


‘Took at him all duded up.” 

“Wouldn’ta knowed ye, Jack.” 

“Huh. That ain’t Jack Hannaford. That’s a 
undertaker. Where’s the corpse?” 

“It’s you that is mistaken. He’s the corp him¬ 
self. See how white he is.” 

This last witticism drew a roar of appreciative 
laughter. 

“Think ye’re smart, don’t ye?” said Jack, begin¬ 
ning with dignity and ending in companionable 
mirth. “Waal, fellers, I look like I feel.” 

Jack was going to the “party.” So were seven 
spruce young men in white ducks donned by com¬ 
mand invitation instead of their hot uniforms, who 
entered the lobby at that moment. The foremost 
saw Hannaford and hailed him, and the old Texan 
at once deserted his tormentors to join the new¬ 
comers. 

“Le’s sit down, boys,” invited Hannaford, “no¬ 
body but ourselves ain’t come yet.” 

With comfortable sighs, all eight sank into chairs 
which were drawn in a semi-circle. Jack looked 
around the group. None of the aviators with 
whom he had shared the honor of Ramirez’s capture 
and the rounding-up and scattering of the Smug¬ 
gling Band was absent. 

“Ain’t seen you since that night, Captain,” said 
Hannaford, his deep voice booming as he sought 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


225 


ineffectually to modulate it, and addressing himself 
to Captain Cornell. “We got a minute’s time be¬ 
fore the party begins. Lay ’er out for me. What 
happened ?” 

So then Hannaford was told of how three De 
Havilands, each with its crew of two men, had gone 
cruising through the moonlight of that memorable 
night, high above the silvery reaches of the Rio 
Grande, to a landing near Carana; how there the 
members of the Border Patrol, commandeering a 
battered flivver, had piled into it and departed 
down river in time to round up a full dozen of Ra¬ 
mirez’s band before ever a boat had put out across 
the river for the purpose of transferring the Or¬ 
ientals into the United States, and had sent the 
others flying. 

“You know the rest, Jack,” said Captain Cornell. 
“The fellows that we rounded up were all Mexicans 
lured from Don Ferdinand’s mine by Ramirez with 
specious promises of the much gold they would re¬ 
ceive. They’re still in jail, but I expect that Uncle 
Sam will make it easy for them, inasmuch as they 
were not caught in the act and as they had not yet 
brought Orientals into the country. Besides, Don 
Ferdinand needs them back at his mine, and he and 
the Mexican Consul are making representations 
which ought to carry weight. How about Ra¬ 
mirez?” 


226 


THE RADIO BOYS 


“With him and his two lieutenants,” Hanna- 
ford said, “it’s some different. We got enough on 
’em to hang ’em. And good riddance, too, if it 
could really be done—but it cain’t.” 

Captain Cornell laughed. “You bloodthirsty old 
villain.” 

But Hannaford did not even smile. “I know him, 
you don’t. Listen, let me tell you, it’s a mighty 
good thing them boys took a hand.” 

“They’re the real stuff, Jack,” Captain Cornell 
agreed heartily, and his companion nodded. “The 
real stuff,” he said. “But, say, Jack, what’s 
the reason for their giving us this party tonight?” 

Hannaford looked mysterious but confessed 
ignorance. “Only,” he added, “don’t fool your¬ 
selves none. This party ain’t bein’ give for us, or 
I miss my reckonin.’ We’re only the lookers-on.” 

“Great guns,” cried Captain Cornell, half rising 
from his chair, and gasing toward the doorway. 
“Look who’s here.” 

All eyes followed his gaze. And, truly, the 
vision entering the lobby was worth attention. It 
was Rafaela, leaning on her father’s arm, but a 
Rafaela so gloriously beautiful and so quaintly 
dressed in Spanish costume—or was it merely a 
touch here and there, such as the lacy black man¬ 
tilla, which made her costume appear so much more 
picturesque than that of the more Americanized 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


227 


beauties who followed her?—that she took away 
the collective breath of the entire group. 

Across the lobby Don Ferdinand, impeccably 
clad in dinner clothes, saw the standing group of 
aviators clustered about Jack Hannaford, and with 
a word to Rafaela, he made his way toward them. 
And then while the aviators gallantly professed 
themselves captivated, and while Rafaela and her 
attendant beauties blushed and bowed as prettily as 
ladies of the Sixties, introductions finally were 
achieved. Strangely enough, there was a beauty 
for each, with a handful left over. Even Jack 
Hannaford, confirmed old bachelor, groaned in¬ 
wardly, as he saw a duenna—the counterpart of 
Donna Ana, Jack could have told him—being 
gently maneuvred his way. 

And Jack, where was he? And Bob and Frank? 
Ah, there! Coming down the stair; at their heels, 
Mr. Hampton and Bob’s father. Nor could any of 
the group, watching the approach across the lobby, 
guess that for the last hour tall, curley-haired Jack 
Hampton had been dressing with more painstaking 
(preparations than he had ever bestowed on this 
operation before in his life. Nor could any have 
guessed that during that time he had been the target 
of unmerciful chaffing on the part of his chums * 
until at length he had attempted to expel them from 
his room, and a tussle had ensued, and he had been 


228 


THE RADIO BOYS 


compelled at the end to undertake dressing all over 
again, for it had left him a ghastly ruin. 

No, none of these things could have been sur¬ 
mised from his appearance. For, fortunately, he 
had not yet donned dinner jacket and vest when the 
tussle had begun. 

A merry clatter of voices rose as the two parties 
met and mingled, only to be temporarily stilled 
when Mr. Hampton announced that they would move 
into the dining room. So in they poured, each 
gallant aviator doing his best to be a ladies’ man, 
with a Creole beauty on his arm, and Bob and Frank 
in the same case, while Jack walked beside Rafaela 
and neither spoke a word, yet eyes were far more 
eloquent than any speech could have been. And 
last of all came the three elders of the party—while 
the fourth, the real elder of all, old Jack Hanna- 
ford, strode fiercely just ahead of them, with the 
duenna’s fingers resting on his high-crooked arm. 

The room was a blaze of light. The decorations 
miraculously had all been arranged. And down the 
center, under its canopy of snowy linen, with the 
silver gleaming and sparkling, ran the long table. 
Place cards? Yes, here they were. And amid much 
laughter the various couples found their places. 

Then silence, while Mr. Hampton at the head of 
the table, looking impressive and yet mischievous, 
lifted his glass—of sparkling grape juice. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


229 


“Friends,” he said, “under other circumstances, 
the announcement I am about to make would come 
in an utterly different way. But the people in¬ 
volved—oh, yes, there are people involved—lead 
such scatterbrain lives that the customary manner 
of announcing engagements must be a bit scatter¬ 
brained, too.” 

Bob and Frank, standing beside their partners 
across the table from Jack, looked pointedly at him 
and Rafaela, grinning widely the while. And in 
the little pause following Mr. Hampton’s last 
words, the aviators who had been unaware of what 
was coming and felt sadly puzzled, caught the sig¬ 
nificance of that glance. Jack tried to grin back man¬ 
fully, but it was what his two comrades privately 
considered a sickly attempt. As for Rafaela, she 
looked as demure and unconcerned as if not she, 
but some other of the beautiful girls nodding to her 
with parted lips, was about to be named. 

“I ask you to drink,” cried Mr. Hampton, “to 
my son and his affianced bride.” 

There, the secret was a secret no longer. And in 
the hubbub that followed, with girls crowding 
around Rafaela, and the men about Jack, telling 
him what a lucky fellow he was, the dinner bade 
fair to be forgotten. 

But suddenly a waiter wearing an anxious frown 


230 


THE RADIO BOYS 


appeared at Mr. Hampton’s elbow, apologetically 
but firmly pleading for a hearing. 

“It’s that crazy fella you says must be master of 
ceremonies,” he said. “He says you must go on 
with the dinner or it will be spoiled. He’s out there 
in the kitchen, tearin’ around like wild. I says no 
good would come of havin’ one o’ these Spanish 
chefs in the kitchen, bossin’ everybody. There,” 
pointing toward the kitchen door—“there he is 
now.” 

Mr. Hampton, lips quirked in a smile, let his gaze 
travel down the room. In the kitchen door, out¬ 
lined against the gleaming ranges beyond, stood a 
figure, arms akimbo. Mr. Hampton said to the 
waiter, “All right, tell him to begin.” And to the 
distant figure, he waved a hand, a signal which the 
latter apparently understood, for he disappeared. 

“Ramon says we must begin dinner,” Mr. 
Hampton announced, turning to Don Ferdinand on 
his right. And he rapped on the table, and made a 
similar announcement. “You’ll all have to sit 
down and be good,” he added, “or the old fellow’s 
heart will be broken. He wouldn’t let anybody, not 
even the caterer, oversee this dinner but himself. 
Says he owes it to Jack for lifting from him a load 
that oppressed him for years.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


231 


CHAPTER XXV. 

CONCLUSION. 

It was a hot June day when little more than a 
month later, two commodious limousines keeping 
close together rolled along the last few miles of the 
Boston Post Road, coming from the South, 
and entered New Haven. How strange and yet 
familiar seemed the streets of the famous college 
city to the lithe, sunburned young fellow at the 
wheel of the foremost car. This way and that 
darted his glance, as the car passed Poli’s and many 
another place enshrined in memories and traditions, 
and he was kept continually busy pointing out land¬ 
marks to the dark olive-tinted beauty beside him. 

It was still early in the day, for they had left 
New York at an early hour. But already the crush 
of automobiles coming and going in the streets was 
dense. And as they drew near a great green square 
resembling a public park, in the very heart of the 
business section, the traffic became so dense and 
slow-moving that the young fellow was compelled 


232 


THE RADIO BOYS 


to give all his attention to his driving and to crawl, 
start, stop continually. 

It was on his companion that the first sight of 
the noble group of buildings, wide-stretching amid 
stately elms, on the other side of the green square, 
dawned. She clutched his arm, while her eyes 
opened wide. 

“Oh, Jack, how you must love it.” 

“Uh-huh,” grunted Jack, casting one swift look 
toward the dear familiar buildings of Old Eli. 
“But don’t grab me like that again, please, or we’ll 
be crawling up on top of this car ahead.” 

A few blocks farther, on a side street, Jack 
rolled into a garage already almost filled with cars 
and, while he was assisting Rafaela to alight, the 
second car drew in. From it stepped Mr. and Mrs. 
Temple and Mr. Hampton. From the first car Jack 
helped out Don Ferdinand and then Bob’s sister, 
Della. A slim, charming girl, with the springy step 
and quick yet graceful movements of a veteran 
tennis player, she well merited all the devotion 
which Frank Merrick showered on her. During 
Rafaela’s week in New York, shopping for her 
trousseau, a warm friendship had grown up between 
the two girls. Della’s chum, Marjorie, to whom 
big Bob had of late been paying marked attentions, 
was already in New Haven, and would meet them 
later. 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


233 


“Now to find the fellows,” said Jack, when all 
were assembled. “And there’s no getting 1 around 
the streets in a car in this crowd, which is why I 
brought you here. Come on, fall in line.” 

Chattering gaily, the little party set out with Jack 
leading, Rafaela clinging to his arm. 

“It’s rather old-fashioned, Mother, for a girl to 
lean on a man’s arm like this,” whispered Della in an 
undertone. “But I like it. I think she’s charming, 
don’t you?” 

“These Southern girls,” replied Mrs. Temple in 
the same guarded tone, “I always did consider them 
more attractive than you mannish young women.” 

Whereat Della laughed lightly, nor felt any hurt. 
She knew none was intended. 

“Oh, there’s Tubby Devore,” she cried the next 
moment. And running forward, she gripped Jack’ 
free arm and pointed. “Jack, Jack, there’s Tubby 
Devore, and Johnny Malcolm, and Pinky Atwell, 
and—and—why, there are Frank and Bob. Oh, 
call to them, Jack.” 

Whereat Jack Raised his voice, and in a moment 
the group thus hailed came plunging through the 
crowd, to surround the newcomers, pay their laugh¬ 
ing respects to Della—an old acquaintance—and to 
slap Jack thunderously on the back and hail him as 
“Benedict.” To all of which Jack appeared 
brazenly indifferent, and presented each in turn to 


234 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Rafaela, “who,” he said, “is soon going to have an 
awful job on her hands. Give her your pity lads. 
She’s going to look after me.” 

But if we were to follow our friends throughout 
the festivities and occasions of that and succeeding 
days, we would need another book or two. It was 
Commencement Week, and New Haven was going 
through its annual madness. Enough to say that 
indoors or out, at dance or tea or in the Bowl, Jack 
everywhere came in for attention as a distinguished 
young alumnus whose radio research already was 
bringing him and the institution fame, while 
Rafaela with her Spanish beauty offset by a ravish- 
ing accent and a spirit of mischief forever lurking 
beneath the surface was acclaimed by all Jack’s 
friends as a jolly good sort, indeed. As for big 
Bob, it was with genuine regret that those old 
alumni who followed Yale sports from season to 
season spoke of his graduation. He was leaving a 
record in practically all departments of athletics 
which everybody considered would remain unsur¬ 
passed for a long time to come. And Frank’s grad¬ 
uation equally was a matter for regret, among the 
undergraduate body especially, inasmuch as he had 
endeared himself to its members by his democratic 
spirit and charm of manner. 

At length, however, all good things must end, 
and it was so with Commencement Week. The day 


WITH THE BOEDER PATROL 


235 


came when New Haven was only a memory, and 
all our friends were back in New York, though 
not in New York City, but on the adjoining Hamp¬ 
ton and Temple estates near Southampton. Ahead 
of the young folks lay a long Summer with the 
prospects of gay companions coming and going, 
tennis, yachting, motor boating on the waters of 
Great South Bay and the broad Atlantic, golf and 
dancing, motoring and horseback riding. Della 
who was a born manager had taken charge of 
affairs, and had planned a round of gayeties lead¬ 
ing up to the approaching marriage of Jack and 
Rafaela. The latter and Don Ferdinand were guests 
of the Temples. And, of course, in between every¬ 
thing else and, in fact, forming at first the major 
attraction for at least two members of the party, 
were the innumerable visits to New York paid by 
the two girls and Mrs. Temple in pursuit of that 
elusive thing known as “Rafaela’s trousseau/’ 

Many times did the swift-moving events at 
Laredo and at Don Ferdinand’s Mexican estate 
come up for discussion, and every item of occur¬ 
rences had to be rehearsed time and again, with the 
exception of how Rafaela had been captured and 
conveyed to Laredo. 

By tacit consent, that was never brought up for 
discussion because of the horrors surrounding it in 
Rafaela’s recollection. It was known that a lieu- 


236 


THE RADIO BOYS 


tenant of Ramirez's, who had been hiding in the hills 
near the estate, had swooped down the day after 
Jack and his father had concluded their brief visit, 
and, after smashing the radio station, had carried 
Rafaela off from under the eyes of the few peons 
left behind by Don Ferdinand and Pedro and 
from the despairing clutches of Donna Ana. More 
dead than alive, the poor girl had been swept up 
into the hills. But when she found that whatever 
fate was intended for her was to be deferred until 
she could be transported on horseback to Nueva 
Laredo and turned over to Ramirez, her courage 
and resourcefulness revived. She watched for an 
opportunity, and, when on arrival at Nueva 
Laredo, she found Ramon in almost as sad plight 
as herself, she instantly began working to bring the 
old fellow around to the point of helping her escape. 
The two, as we know, were in the act of carrying 
out their desperate attempt when Jack fortunately 
and opportunely arrived with his comrades and the 
aviators to rescue her. 

But of the tortured hours that lay between the 
sudden attack of the bandits on her home and 
Jack’s arrival, she could never be persuaded to talk, 
and so, by common consent, the matter was never 
pressed. 

One day during this golden vacation period Jack 
went into New York, not returning until the next 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


237 


day. Then he arrived jubilant. He had come 
straight from hours spent with the chief engineers 
and officials of the great radio trust, and so fulsome 
had been the praise heaped on his young head on 
account of the successful outcome of his year’s ex¬ 
periments that modesty forbade him to repeat more 
than a tithe of it. Indeed, many another head— 
and many a good deal older than Jack’s—might 
have been turned; but his sat too squarely, he saw 
too sanely for conceit to gain a foothold. 

Enough to say that all Jack’s work had been fully 
approved, and that he would soon have the pleasure 
of seeing his improved radio equipment on the 
world market. He had solved the problem of pro¬ 
viding super-selectivity with a radio receiver per¬ 
mitting the operator to select any station he wanted 
to hear, whether or not local stations were in opera¬ 
tion—a receiver that brought volume from distant 
stations along with selectivity, that attained a more 
faithful reproduction of broadcasted voice and 
music than ever deemed possible before, and that, 
moreover, was eternally “non-radiating;” that is to 
say, that no matter how handled it would never in¬ 
terfere with a neighboring radio enthusiast’s en¬ 
joyment. And he had transformed the Super- 
Heterodyne, theretofore so complicated that engin¬ 
eering skill was required for its operation, until 


238 


THE RADIO BOYS 


now it was improved in sensitiveness and selectivity 
and simplified so that anybody could operate it. 

“And what do you get for your work?” the prac¬ 
tical Mr. Temple wanted to know. 

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Maybe, millions. 
The radio trust financed my experiments, as you 
know, and you might think it would now offer me 
a lump sum and buy my work outright. But, al¬ 
though there were one or two men who wanted to 
do that, the balance were very decent about it. The 
upshot is that I have a contractual agreement, pay¬ 
ing me a fixed royalty on all sales of my patented 
articles.” 

“You got them to do that?” said Mr. Temple, 
getting up and shaking Jack by the hand. “Well, 
I’ll say you’re a business man. How about it, 
Hampton?” And he turned toward Jack’s father. 

“Jack knows how I feel,” said Mr. Hampton, 
smiling. “But the big thing to him, and I guess to 
me, too, is not the fact that he probably will reap 
a fortune but rather that he has succeeded in ad¬ 
vancing the cause of science.” 

“And now what are you planning to do?” per¬ 
sisted Mr. Temple, while the others—the whole 
party was present on the shaded slope of lawn be¬ 
side the Temple tennis courts—listened for Jack’s 
answer. 

Jack pretended a secretiveness which he did not 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


239 


feel, and his make-believe was so pronounced that 
the others all began to smile. 

“Hist,” he said, gazing around, with hand, palm 
extended, shading his eyes. “Any enemies of the 
radio trust on hand? No, well then I can speak. 
But only in strictest secrecy, mind that, everybody. 
As soon as”—a twinkling glance at Rafaela—“as 
soon as I go under new management. I’m to be de¬ 
tailed to Washington.” 

“Washington? What for?” cried Bob. 

And, “Yes, what for?” echoed others. Mr. 
Hampton and Rafaela, who already had been ad- 
mited to the secret, alone remained silent. 

“There’s a man down there who also has been 
experimenting on radio,” Jack said, “but along 
different lines. He is trying to find out the laws 
controlling radio waves for the transmission of 
vision. Well, maybe, I didn’t put that just right. 
But this is what he’s after: He’s trying to evolve 
a radio device for the broadcasting of scenes. 
Thus, for instance, there would be a broadcasting 
equipment when the President takes his oath of 
office, when Babe Ruth plays ball, when the Bel¬ 
mont Stakes or the Kentucky Derby are run, when 
Bill Tilden and Suzanne Lenglen take on the world 
at tennis, when a new play is given its premiere; 
and the fellow sitting out in the mountains, far 
from everywhere, or over in our house or yours. 


240 


THE RADIO BOYS 


Bob, with special equipment, why, he’d see it all, 
just as if he were present. And he’d hear, too. 
What do you think of that?” 

Various expressions of disbelief rose from the 
group, except that Bob and Frank sat silent, nod¬ 
ding their heads. 

“It’s bound to come,’-’ said Frank, when the 
others had in a measure subsided. 

And Bob added with conviction: “It’ll come if 
Jack helps out this old professor.” 

And after a moment he added gloomily: 

“But Frank and I won’t be in on it. We’ll be 
down in the shipping room stencilling exports.” 

A merry laugh, which Bob somehow felt was a 
bit unfeeling, greeted this reference to the fact that 
at the end of the Summer vacation he and Frank 
were scheduled to enter the export house which 
their respective fathers had built up as partners, 
and which Mr. Temple had conducted alone since 
the death of his associate and lifelong friend, 
Frank’s father, years before. 

“Cheer up. Bob,” said Jack. “You expressed 
somewhat the same sentiments, if I remember 
aright, down in Laredo not so long ago. Nothing 
exciting was ever going to happen to you again, 
you said. Yet look at all the fun you had the very 
next minute.” 


WITH THE BORDER PATROL 


241 


And so, with this little prevision of the future, 
let us bid a temporary farewell to the Radio Boys, 
feeling fairly well assured that when we next en¬ 
counter them Jack, and not Bob, will prove to have 
been the better prophet. 


The End. 




The 

Radio Boys Series 

BY GERALD BRECKENRIDGE 

A new series of copyright titles for 
boys of all ages. 


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THE RADIO BOYS ON THE MEXICAN" 
BORDER 

THE RADIO BOYS ON SECRET SERVICE 
DUTY 

THE RADIO BOYS WITH THE REVENUE 
GUARDS 

THE RADIO BOYS’ SEARCH FOR THE INCA’S 
TREASURE 

THE RADIO BOYS RESCUE THE LOST 
ALASKA EXPEDITION 

THE RADIO BOYS IN DARKEST AFRICA 

THE RADIO BOYS SEEK THE LOST 
ATLANTIS 


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All Copyrighted Titles. 

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THE BOY TROOPERS ON STRIKE DUTY 

THE BOY TROOPERS AMONG THE WILD 
MOUNTAINEERS 


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Series 

BY L. P. WYMAN, PH.D. 

Dean of Pennsylvania Military College. 

A new series of instructive copyright stories for 
boys of High School Age. 

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PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH. 


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ELECTRIC CELL 

THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE FORTRESS 
THE GOLDEN BOYS IN THE MAINE 
WOODS 

THE GOLDEN BOYS WITH THE LUMBER 
JACKS 

THE GOLDEN BOYS RESCUED BY RADIO 
THE GOLDEN BOYS ALONG THE RIVER 
ALLAGASH 

THE GOLDEN BOYS AT THE HAUNTED 
CAMP 



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Handsome Cloth Binding. 

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THE RANGER BOYS FIND THE HERMIT 

THE RANGER BOYS AND THE BORDER 
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THIEVES 

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For Boys 12 to 16 Years 
All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles 
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New Stories of Camp Life 


THE BOY SCOUTS’ FIRST CAMPFIRE; or. Scouting 
with the Silver Fox Patrol. 

THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE BLUE RIDGE; or. 
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THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL; or, Scouting 
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THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS; or. 
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or. The Search for the Lost Tenderfoot. 

THE BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES; or, The Secret 
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THE BOY SCOUTS ON STURGEON ISLAND; or,, 
Marooned Among the Game-Fish Poachers. 

THE BOY SCOUTS DOWN IN DIXIE, or, The Strange 
Secret of Alligator Swamp. 

THE BOY SCOUTS AT THE BATTLE OF SARATO¬ 
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or, The Silver Fox Patrol Caught in a Flood. 

THE BOY SCOUTS ON WAR TRAILS IN BELGIUM; 
or. Caught Between Hostile Armies. 

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(Registered in the United Stater 
Patent Office) 

With the 

BY 

ENSIGN ROBERT L. DRAKE 


For Boys 12 to 16 Years. 

All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles 
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Frank Chadwick and Jack Templeton, young American lads, 
meet each other in an unusual way soon after the declaration 
of war. Circumstances place them on board the British cruiser, 
“The Sylph,” and from there on, they share adventures with 
the sailors of the Allies. Ensign Robert L. Drake, the author, 
is an experienced naval officer, and he describes admirably the 
many exciting adventures of the two boys. 

THE BOY ALLIES ON THE NORTH SEA PATROL; or, Strlk- 
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THE BOY ALLIES UNDER TWO FLAGS; or, Sweeping the 
Enemy from the Sea. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE FLYING SQUADRON; or, The 
Naval Raiders of the Great War. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE TERROR OF THE SEA; or, 
The Last Shot of Submarine D-16. 

THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE SEA; or. The Vanishing 
Submarine. 

THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALTIC; or, Through Fields of 
Ice to Aid the Czar. 

THE BOY ALLIES AT JUTLND; or, The Greatest Naval Battle 
of History. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH UNCLE SAM’S CRUISERS; or, Con- 
voying the American Army Across the Atlantic. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE SUBMARINE D-32; or, The 
Fall of the Russian Empire. 

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The Fall of the German Navy. 




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The Boy Allies 

(Registered in the United States 
Patent Office) 

With the 

BY CLAIR W. HAYES 


For Boys 12 to 16 Years. 

All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles 
PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH 

In this series we follow the fortunes of two American lads 

unable to leave Europe after war is declared. They meet the 

soldiers of the Allies, and decide to cast their lot with them. 

Their experiences and escapes are many, and furnish plenty 

of good, healthy action that every boy lovea. 

THE BOY ALLIES AT LIEGE; or, Through Lines of Steel. 

THE BOY ALLIES ON THE FIRING LINE; or, Twelve Days 
Battle Along the Marne. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH THE COSSACKS; or, A Wild Dash 
Over the Carpathians. 

THE BOY ALLIES IN THE TRENCHES; or, Midst Shot and 
Shell Along the Aisne. 

THE BOY ALLIES IN GREAT PERIL; or, With the Italian 
Army in the Alps. 

THE BOY ALLIES IN THE BALKAN CAMPAIGN; or. The 
Struggle to Save a Nation. 

THE BOY ALLIES ON THE SOMME; or, Courage and Bravery 
Rewarded. 

THE BOY ALLIES AT VERDUN; or, Saving France from the 
Enemy. 

THE BOY ALLIES UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES; or. 
Leading the American Troops to the Firing Line. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH HAIG IN FLANDERS; or, The Fight- 
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THE BOY ALLIES WITH PERSHING IN FRANCE; or, Over 
the Top at Chateau Thierry. 

THE BOY ALIES WITH THE GREAT ADVANCE; or, Driving 
the Enemy Through France and Belgium. 

THE BOY ALLIES WITH MARSHAL FOCH; or. The Closing 
Days of the Great World War. 



& 

fc 

=^ - m ‘ 1 ■ - ^=-==5^1 

TteBOTAiUES] 

GREATPeRJL 

||^C^uiCW'. Hayes * 

ll L 




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Lorimer Series 

BY WINN STANDISH 

For Boys 12 to 16 Years. 

All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles 
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CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER; or, The Young Athlete of Mill- 
vale High. 

Jack Lorimer is a fine example of the all-around Amer¬ 
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sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among 
athletic youths. 

JACK LORIMER’S CHAMPIONS; or, Sports on Land and Lake. 

There is a lively story woven in with the athletic achieve¬ 
ments, which are all right, since the book has been O. K’d. 
by Chadwick, the Nestor of American Sporting journalism. 

JACK LORIMER’S HOLIDAYS; or, Millvale High in Camp. 

It would be well not to put this book into a boy’s hands 
until the chores are finished, otherwise they might be 
neglected. 

JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE; or, The Acting Captain of 
the Team. 

On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling, 
and tobogganing. There is a good deal of fun in this book 
and plenty of action. 

JACK LORIMER, FRESHMAN; or, From Millvale High to 
Exmouth. 

Jack and some friends he makes crowd innumerable hap¬ 
penings into an exciting freshman year at one of the lead¬ 
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with feats on the gridiron, hockey, basketball and other 
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THE GIRL SCOUTS AT MISS ALLENS 
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THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP 
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ GOOD TURN 
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ CANOE TRIP 
THE GIRL SCOUTS’ RIVALS 
THE GIRL SCOUTS ON THE RANCH 

THE GIRL SCOUTS’ VACATION AD¬ 
VENTURES 

THE GIRL SCOUTS’ MOTOR TRIP 



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MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE 
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MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SOPHOMORE 
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